


Haunted City

by Blue_GhostGhost (Delphyne)



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s), Original Slash, Slash, Werewolves, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-06-14 02:18:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15378552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphyne/pseuds/Blue_GhostGhost
Summary: Birthright or not, I said I wasn't interested. But between a family curse, a shady secret society and a pushy werewolf with a mohawk, witchcraft might be my best chance of getting out of this alive.





	1. Chapter 1

I woke in the night to the strange chatter-language of crows in the trees outside my window. They are not a good omen, crows. I was raised knowing this, and as much as my logical mind objects to my grandmother's superstitions, I still feel them in my bones. I shudder, roll over, and tug a pillow on top of my head. This is the result of too many late shifts at the bar, followed by long hours studying criminal law, I reason.

 

A man who lives solely on Mexican food, cigarettes, coffee, and too much bourbon is likely to get some strange ideas in the middle of the night. I feel it again, a nasty little zing running down my spine. Even through the fabric pressed to my ears, the wind in the leaves sounds unpleasantly like voices. I hate creepy shit like that, more so because it takes so much energy to pretend it isn't happening. I will whatever has focused its energy in my direction to turn away.  

 

_ Go away, go away, go away. _

 

Something cool brushes my arm, soft and wispy like an insect; the paper wings of a moth or the creeping tendrils of a daddy long-legs. I sit up bleary eyed and "Ohmygodshit! Jesus Christ, Athena." I jerk back involuntarily, my heart thudding in my chest. "You scared the hell out of me, asshole," I snarl at my twin.

 

I call her by her full name because that's who she is now. There hasn't been a Jack and Tina in a long ass time. If we mirror each other in appearance, same black hair, olive skin and brown eyes, that is where the similarities end.

 

Raised by our Cretan grandmother, with her thick Greek accent and peculiar habits, I am the only one in our little family who wants to be normal. You see, old yaya was a witch, and while Athena has been all too happy to go into the family business, I saw enough strange stuff growing up to know that I don't really have a taste for strangeness.

 

"What are you doing here in the middle of the night?" I ask at last, shaking the sleep from my brain. There is an unfamiliar smell hanging in the air, thick and caustic like burning rubber. My twin gives no reply.

 

"Okay. What crazy thing have you done now?" I mumble, scrubbing my hands over my eyes. "And what are you doing in San Francisco anyway? Fuck. Do you have any idea what time it is?"

 

"Oh Jax." Her voice shimmers. I can't think of another word for its strange and ethereal quality but shimmery. "I'm dead. Please, Jax, don't let him find it."

 

Then she's gone like the first scene in Hamlet or something, leaving me sitting there wondering if it had all been a dream. By morning—and a few terrible phone calls later—I have a broken heart and a life that will never be normal again.

 

###

 

_ ONE YEAR LATER _

 

It is the hottest day in San Francisco that I can remember and it's barely June. It is the kind of sticky, wet pit, smothering heat that boils blood and spikes crime rates. We’re more of the “coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco” types around here and the city is collectively miserable, irritable and losing its goddamn mind. "Hey, earth to Jack, are you listening to a word I'm saying?" Poppy asks me.

 

"Huh?" We are working the evening shift at the bar. It's slow for a Friday night, but that may have something to do with the fact that we've only got one working fan and an air quality to the joint that’s usually associated with a turkish bath.

 

"Wow. I think your brain is boiling or something." I like working with this lady because she knows what she's doing behind the bar, never bitches about the job, and there is no filter between her brain and her mouth.

 

"Yeah maybe. It's been a long fucking week. What'd you say?"

 

Poppy gives an indelicate snort and brushes her dark Bettie Page bangs to the side. They stick to her skin in little clumps. She's a curvy girl with a fair amount of tattoos and an attitude to go with them. "I said they’re screening all two hundred and thirty episodes of the Bachelor at the Castro on Wednesday. Rachel has work. You wanna be my plus one?"

 

"You…what?" I stare.

 

"No. Just kidding. I said you should take your fifteen and go smoke while we're slow."

 

###

 

I lean against the building, the side with Dirty Thieves hand-painted in block lettering across it. The night air smells of honeysuckle, fastfood and melting plastic—and I know by now that I'm the only one who can smell that last thing, that little olfactory warning that things are about to get extra annoying. Resigned to whatever fucked up encounter fate has in store for me today, I hit the pack of American Spirits against my palm. The fingers of my left hand instinctively go to the jumble of protective charms I keep on my keychain, rattling them nervously. I count backwards ten…nine…eight

 

"Can I bum a cigarette?"

 

Bingo. The burning smell erupts into a robust wave at the sudden closeness of a guy with a dirty mohawk standing next to me. He has a body like a young Henry Rollins: medium height, but broad as fuck. The hole-ridden Clash t-shirt he's wearing is strained tightly across his chest as he invades my personal space. He's also wearing smudgy eyeliner and a whole lot of attitude.

 

I blink at him as Iggy's  _ I Wanna Be Your Dog _ is plays on the jukebox, rolling out into the street with a jangling, whining hunger. "Umm…" I hesitate, my brow furrowing. His tongue darts lazily over a full bottom lip, pausing at the ring piercing the left side. Gross.

 

"Are you going to give me one of those or just stare?" he asks. His voice is a whisper, paced out slowly like we are sharing a secret. And maybe that's how it is because it suddenly occurs to me that he must be a—well I don't really actually know what the hell he is—a guy who smells like magic and stuff.

 

"Okay," I say, "but look, then you have to go. I work here, and I don't need any more  _ super-shit _ happening in front of the customers. It’s been a really dumb week already." I’m pleased, and more than a little surprised, by the dismissive tone in my voice, fast and unfriendly.

 

"Uh supershit? Am I missing something?" The guy raises an eyebrow, letting a hand rest on the wall next to my head. He has dirty nails with chipped purple polish. I shift uncomfortably.

 

"Supernatural." I shrug, hoping the flush to my face can be reasonably blamed on the heat. "I can smell it rolling off of you. It's quite, um, pungent."

 

"That's a little rude, don't you think?" His grin is broad and horribly toothy. "For example, you smell downright fuckable, but I was going to keep that to myself because I'm a gentleman."

 

"Uh yeah, look knock-off Johnny Rotten," I snap, "if I give you a Goddamn cigarette—oh hell the whole pack, whatever—will you please just go away?"

 

"Hmmm…" The stranger leans in as I retract against the wall as far as humanly possible. I can hear him breathing in deeply, almost sniffing, hovering somewhere near my left ear. "You know you're awful mouthy for someone in your position. God, I want to make you squeak so badly. Yum."

 

"What? Christ!" I chant the only protection spell I can remember from my childhood, soft and pitiful, with my eyes squeezed shut. My tough guy routine is totally shot to shit. I'll admit it freely.

 

"Stop that. You're embarrassing yourself. What's your deal anyway? You practically send me an invitation with curly handwriting and hearts, you're outside smoking and waiting around, and now you want me to just fuck off? What's wrong? I'm not your type?"

 

"Are you insane or something?" I am privately mortified by the pitch of my voice.

 

"No, knock-off Harry Potter, but I am exceptionally impatient."

 

I meet his eyes. "I'm just on my smoke break," I explain reasonably. "No invitation for you or anybody else, I swear."

 

"Okay. Look here, HP." He sighs. "A word of advice? Rein in the psychic angstyness. You're like a whole high school poetry club put together. Pure catnip. You, I mean, not high school poetry."

 

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

 

"Okay, fine." He seems really annoyed now. "You want to play rough? This is for your own good. How much money do you have?" He scowls at my indignant expression. "On you, how much?"

 

"I don't know, thirty, thirty-five bucks."

 

"Give it to me.” He considered for a moment. “And your cigarettes."

 

"What?" I look around wildly. How was no one seeing this? "You're mugging me? Seriously?"

 

"No, I'm  _ super _ mugging you. I can. I am." He leans forward, teeth bared in a snarl and, yeah, it scares me a little. "Unless you want to work something out? God, you smell really fucking good."

 

"Okay! Jesus, just relax." I fumbled with my wallet, looking from side to side at the useless group of bar patrons actively ignoring the situation.

 

The man pockets the crumpled bills. "Next time, it will cost you more," he tells me.

 

"But that's all I've got."

 

"I'm leaving you with plenty. Now get yourself sorted or next time I won’t be so sweet to you." He reaches out and ruffled my hair before turning and sauntering away, like a bulldog with questionable fashion sense.

 

I sigh and, with my hand shaking slightly, finish my cigarette. Fuck me, but it has been an exceptionally hellish year, both confusing and miserable. Something strange had settled over my life after my sister's death, a kind of unluckiness. That man had called it psychic angst. I stub out the butt of my cigarette and scrub hands over my face. Something is terribly, horribly wrong. 

Milk curdles within a day of being bought, and light bulbs keep going out all over the apartment, blinking out sometimes only hours after I’ve changed them. My vinyl records obtain mysterious scratches, important papers go missing, and my credit card has become demagnetized so many times I've given up replacing it.

 

Sometimes, I wake to the sound of tapping on the windows and Athena's shape moving across the floor. I see her in mirrors, mouth moving frantically but silent. Strange shadows dart just out of my direct line of eyesight. I see the dead people sometimes, sullen ghosts moving through the world like smoke. Crows gather wherever I go, speaking in their weird bird language and watching me with black eyes.

 

Then one day something slimy and tentacled reached out of the bathroom sink as I was brushing my teeth. I dispatched it using the towel rack and a bottle of drano, my chest heaving so hard from the exertion I wondered for a moment if I might pass out. I knew that was pretty weird. But a guy, an actual physical dude threatening me, this was a whole new level, an alarming escalation that I was going to have to confront.

 

###

 

I might have tattoos, a job at a dive bar, and a family tree full of witches, but at my core I'm a great lover of systems, logic and well-reasoned arguments. It was this drive for order that had me getting my degree at UC Berkeley School of Law, in fact. That currently includes a 40-hour a week summer internship at the ACLU where I spend most of my waking hours doing legal research, drafting court papers and attending appellate arguments, trial proceedings and depositions. In my defense, I’d been ignoring some pretty alarming shit in my personal life, because I don’t really have time for a personal life right now.

 

The world can be a really fucked up place, but I am the kind of person who rolls up his sleeves and does something about it. So it is with the stubborn determination normally reserved for civil liberties and constitutional law that I try to puzzle out what is happening to me.

 

After a brief survey of the main stacks of the Berkeley library, I end up trudging across campus to the small library the Folklore department shares with Anthropology. My family has kept a book of practical magic for generations. It was something my grandmother referenced almost daily and added to occasionally, like a favorite cookbook. I had liked it as a kid because it was mostly written in Greek, and the letters were enticingly foreign. Athena and I had passed many rainy afternoons trying to read it to each other in our clumsy American accents.

 

_ Christ,  _ what had happened to that thing anyway? For obvious reasons Athena had inherited the manuscript after our Grandmother's death, but come to think of it I don't remember seeing the book when I cleared out her apartment. Without the personalized manual I would just have to muddle through some more general texts. I, however, opt to keep my files on my laptop.

I start with a translation of the  _ Greek Magical Papyri _ , a collection of Greco-Roman Egyptian texts from around the second century BC. Feeling unspeakably self-conscious, I type up a few archaic spells that seem worth trying before adding Alan Dunde's  _ Evil eye: A Casebook _ and Edward Dodwell's  _ A Classical and Topographical Tour of Greece _ to the stack.

 

Both seemed good for collecting modern "folk" practices, that may or may not be a little bit of real magic. The Anthropology library closes at five so I check out anything else I think might be helpful and carry my things to the coffee shop across the street. I order a large coffee and pour an obscene amount of sugar into it. It's going to be a very long night.

 

###

 

If you take a glass of holy water and drop olive oil into it, it should float. If, however, you are cursed by the evil eye it will sink. I watch the viscous greenish-gold liquid fall like the oil in a lava lamp and sigh _. Yeah okay, disappointing, but not all that surprising really.  _

 

Following family tradition, I put small potted cacti and dishes of salt by the front door of the apartment—the equivalent of a negative energy air filter— and then fish out my sister's small silver cross to put around my neck. I sleep with a piece of bread under my pillow and start burning sage incense. I put garlic in the windows, wear a silver belt buckle and carry basil in my pocket, but that oil keeps dropping like the New Year's ball in Times Square. Whatever is going with me, it’s going to take more than a few lucky charms to fix it. 

 

After a day at the ACLU office, I run by Rainbow Grocery to pick up a few things. I have a bar shift later so I have to hurry if I want to take a shower and change before work. It is still hot, and I've already peeled down to a sleeveless undershirt. As a general rule, San Francisco doesn't believe in air conditioning, but that doesn't make it right. I'm scrutinizing the bulk bins of dried fruit and nuts when it happens, that feeling of being watched flutters sickeningly through my stomach. Yep. There it is, burnt plastic. I take a deep, world weary sigh. 

 

"Hey Potter," a voice says conversationally. "You may not remember me, but we met out at a bar the other night."

 

I swing around, my eyes narrowing. The guy is wearing a skintight Che Guevara shirt, like he's beaten up a much smaller college student for it. So tight, in fact, I can see the outlines of nipple piercings through the thin, overstretched fabric.

 

I glare. "What are you doing here?" I demand.

 

"Same thing as you, I suspect."

 

"What? Spending my money? You're following me."

 

"Heh. Well, you do smell pretty yummy. It's kind of hard to miss." The guy holds my gaze as he turns the contents of his basket into my cart. He has unnervingly blue eyes. "I need to get a few more things so hang on a second before you check out."

 

I look down and make an expression of disgust at the boxes of vegetarian corn dogs and condoms now covering my groceries.

 

The bastard just smirks. "I can use those on you later if you want." He pauses, studying my face. "Don't look so freaked out. I didn't mean the corndogs. Hang on. I've got to get some beer. You didn't drive by any chance? That shit gets heavy fast."

 

"I took the bus."

 

"Figures. I'll go easy on the beer then, I guess."

 

"Why are you doing this?" I try to keep my voice even and calm. "What did I ever do to you?"

 

The man, who has turned on his heel—presumably to get beer—closes the gap between us, purposely intimidating me with his size. He smells like magic, mixed with something richer, a masculine scent of cloves and pine.

 

"What do you expect me to do?" His voice is a soft growl. "I've already warned you once. It's pretty clear you haven't taken my advice on the matter, HP."

 

"Stop calling me that. I have a name. It's Jack. And I'm not  _ doing _ anything. These things are happening  _ to _ me. If you can tell me how to make it stop…"

 

"Oh hell no. I'm not your damn babysitter." He turns and stalks towards the beer isle, but I follow.

 

"Hey!" I yell watching him put a case of PBR into the cart. He looks up, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

 

"So what am I?" I ask, "like cursed or something? You told me to get my  _ psychic angstyness _ under control, whatever the hell that means. Is that what all those  _ things  _ are attracted to?"

"I don't know. To what  _ things  _ are you referring?" He says "things" like the word is insulting, mumbling under his breath as he takes the cart and pushes it towards the front of the store, leaving me little choice but to trot behind him.

 

"I'm sorry I don't know the politically correct term. Look asshole, my condition…I know it's not good and it scares the shit out of me."

 

"It should," He says with a shrug then lights a cigarette in the grocery line. "San Francisco is going to hell in a handbasket, man. Welcome to the party."

 

"You can't smoke in here."

 

"Do you see anyone stopping me?" It's true. No one even looks in our direction. "You pay. It will be faster than me trying to get that dude's attention."

 

"I have rent you know. I'm not your fucking bottomless ATM."

 

He gives me a nasty smirk. "Heh. You're my some kind of bottom anyway. I think you'll do whatever the fuck I tell you to. Maybe I should heat up a few corndogs  before we go though. You're getting kind of cranky."

 

###

 

"What are you doing? Trying to start a goddamn Planned Parenthood? Those things are expensive," I grumble in the parking lot as I begrudgingly take a corndog. I'd paid for it hadn't I?

He drops what is left of his smoke and stubs it out with his foot. "Why don't you see how much of this you can fit in your mouth at once? I’ll watch."

 

"Fuck You."

 

"Totally a possibility. I'm not going to lie. I really like your tattoos. I was going to pick a favorite, but I've decided to wait until I've seen them all." He leers. I glare.

 

"Yeah, I work at a bar," I sayl. "You're not the first genus to come up with that line. What's your name anyway?"

 

"Eli." I watch him as he makes short work of his own corndog.

 

"Ok, great. Well Eli, I'm going home now. Hopefully I can make it without dying or something." I gather up my bags.

 

"I hope you're not asking for my protection because I don't do that sort of shit."

 

" _ Christ no _ . That would be a bit like asking the fox to guard the hen house, don't you think?"

 

Eli laughs. "Sorry." He lights two cigarettes in his mouth at once and hands one to me. I take it with a frown. "You're a weird one, man. Normally people who notice me  _ want _ my hmm…attention. They come sniffing around looking for it. Shit this city has some major freaks. Oh man, and do I have the scars to prove it. Just the other day I met this chick at a strip club and…"

 

"That's okay, I believe you." I say quickly. "I'd argue you noticed me first though."

 

"Same thing."

 

"Look, I gotta go. I have work and thanks to you I'm broke."

 

"At that bar? You'd better run along then little red riding hood." He shoots me another of his toothy grins. "Don't talk to any strangers on your way to grandmother's house. It's a scary world out there and you're small enough to eat in one bite. You're a goddamn fun size snickers."

 

"Yeah, uh, thanks Eli," I say and don't really mean, "I'll be seeing you I guess."

 


	2. Soul Sucker

I am in a rolling sea as black as ink—sinking ever deeper with each breath. It lulls me, that cold darkness, leaching out my will to fight it. Things brush my limbs slick and twisting, eel-like and fishy as my lungs grow heavy with sludgy liquid. The water twists, moving me back and forth. I should be afraid, but I am not. My will feels as limp as my body.

 

Then I sleep as if in death.

 

I wake to the feel of fingers cradling my head, the pads of cold thumbs running down my cheeks, making me shiver.

 

"Ajax what are you doing here? Shit. Oh shit. Get up." My eyes flutter and I blink them open groggily. My tongue feels swollen, sandy, and tastes of brine.

 

"Nghh?" I try to lift my head, but it feels too heavy. I blink again. Wait, I know that voice like it's a part of my own soul. "Athena?"

 

"Yes. It's me. Jax, come on, sit up. What the hell?" She takes me by the shoulders and yanks me into a sitting position, making my head swim. "Quick, tell me the incantation you used. Was it rune magic?"

 

"Magic?" I laugh even though my throat feels fucked and raw. The strange light surrounding us illuminates all the little hairs around her head like some alien halo. "I don't know any magic. That's the whole fucking problem."

 

"Oh my God. Do you always have to be so goddamn pig headed? Of course you know magic. You just don't pay any attention. You think everything important has to come out of one of your stupid books. Maybe if you looked,  _ really looked _ at things, you wouldn't get so blindsided by shit all the time. You have to open your eyes before you can see the trees from the forest, retard."

 

"Huh? What the hell are you talking about? And seriously, Thena, it's not like practicing witchcraft has done you any favors." She lets out a soft guttural whimper and then I remember the terrible reality.  _ Oh yeah, she's dead. _ I suddenly feel sick. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" I reach for her, try to catch her narrow shoulders and pull her to me, but she pushes me away.

 

"We don't have time for this," Athena tells me shortly, in that bossy way she always uses when her feelings are hurt. "Every moment you're here it drains you and courts a fucking catastrophe. Now give me your Athane."

 

"Huh? My what?"

 

She scowls. "Your blade, Jax. Give it here. Honestly, do we really come from the same family?"

 

"I don't have one."

 

"Oh for crying out loud," she says in shocked disbelief. "Not even a pocket knife?"

 

"No."

 

"Fuuucck," she groans. "Okay, okay, well you've got to have a lighter right? Give me that." I nod and lift my hips a little to dig into the pocket of my jeans. I pass my sister the lighter, our fingers brushing. Shit, she feels like ice. "I need to send you home. I wish I had more time, but I don't. Go to my apartment in LA, find yaya's book."

 

"What?" I frown. "Dude, you've been gone like a year. Your apartment has been long since cleaned out."

 

Her pupils dilate, her expression goes slack and her skin takes on a grayish hue. It's a terrible sight let me tell you. "Ajax," Athena says with some effort, "don't remind me. It breaks a spirit's concentration to hear that it is dead so shut up about that."

 

"Okay. Sorry," I tell her. "Thena, I'll get the book. Don't worry." She nods and takes off one of her earrings, heating it with the lighter flame as I watch.

 

The word pentagram comes from the Greek word  _ pentagrammon _ . Drawn as a five-pointed star, it has been used as a magical symbol since early Mesopotamian cultures first inhabited the Fertile Crescent thousands of years ago. It has had significant meaning in occultism, Christianity, and modern witchcraft. "This," my sister says, holding up the hot metal star in front of my face, "might hurt a little bit."

 

The metal sears into my flesh as she presses it hard and fast to my forehead. I flail and instinctively try to push her off. It feels like all the air is leaving my body in one great big whoosh as pain shoots down to my toes and my own screams fill my ears. I wake suddenly in my own bed, my head aching and my lungs burning as I cough up a startling amount of liquid.

 

###

 

"What happened to your forehead?" my roommate, Sarah, asks over breakfast. She's wearing day glow track shorts and headphones, her honey blonde hair swept up into a messy ponytail.

"I don't know," I reply. "I must have hit it on something."

 

"Dude," she says. "It looks wicked cool, like a crazy sunburst or something. Sweet."

 

"Yeah," I say without enthusiasm. "Sweet."

 

###

 

"Hello," says a slick female voice as smooth as polished stone. I look up from the glasses I've been putting away behind the bar. A woman, slender and pale, slides onto a stool. She has long black hair and a slinky black dress. she’s slumming it, would like me to know she's slumming it, and she positively reeks of magic.

 

I nod. "Hi. What can I get you?"

 

"Mmm, depends. That's an interesting curse you're wearing," she says, her head tilting in curiosity. "I'm dying to know where I might get one like it."

 

I start, the muscles in my neck going tight. "That's a bit rude don't you think?" I ask stiffly. "What a way to start a conversation."

 

The woman laughs, "My apologies if I've offended you, really. I just couldn't help…but notice. I do not believe we have met before. You can call me Katharina." She extends a long fingered hand, palm down, the nails are long, painted with dark polish.

 

"Jack," I barely catch her fingers and gave them a brief, awkward squeeze. They are cool against my own skin, reminding me of Athena and I pull my hand back quickly, eliciting another laugh. I frown. "So are you drinking, Katharina?"

 

She gives a smooth smile. "Oh yes, of course. A gin gimlet when you have a moment, darling. This is an interesting place," her eyes flutter briefly over the mix of patrons scattered around the dive bar. "Have you worked here long?"

 

"About a year."

 

"Fascinating," she pauses, "now, Jack, I like you. I know immediately if I'm going to like someone and I definitely like you."

 

"Lucky me. Mr. popular. That will be five dollars." I slide the drink in front of her.

 

"The thing is," her voice is soft and easy. "And really I hope you don't take this the wrong way…"

 

"Please. Don't tread lightly on my account."

 

"Right." She takes a sip of her gimlet and then presses her lips together. "Honey, you haven't been playing with fire have you? It isn't nice. San Francisco is getting a little too damn hot if you know what I mean."

 

"No, I don't get your meaning, actually," I say annoyed.

 

"Oh? Well that's a bit surprising. I would think a mage of your abilities would have noticed the imbalance. Honestly, it's beyond a little inconvenient at this point and the VHS is being its usually twitty self about the whole thing. I can never tell if they are being purposely obtuse or if they're just idiots."

 

"I'm not a mage," I argue. "I'm not anything, actually, and I'm not interested in being anything. I have no idea who you are or what the VHS is and quite frankly I don't care. But if you know something about why I'm cursed, I really wish you'd tell me. I'd like to be not cursed and then I'd really like to leave well enough alone."

 

"Oh," she looks surprised. "You did speak to Eli didn't you?"

 

"You could call it that, I guess. Yeah, we've met."

 

"Well, I'm not entirely sure what to say. It was Elijah Edelmann that requested that the Grand Council consider offering you some assistance, at no small inconvenience to himself I might add." I give her a suspicious look. "Of course, nothing of worth comes without a price. But I'm sure we can work something out." She gives me a half-lidded look that is more than a little alarming.

 

"Well, that's real sweet," I drawl, "but that doesn't really sound like the Eli I know and love. I trust that guy about as far as I can throw his bulky ass and by association you and your Grand Council too. But thanks anyway. And, um, don't forget your cloak and dagger on the way out."

 

###

 

"You have been in the worst mood lately," Poppy tells me. "You wanna smoke a joint or something, man?" We're on her couch watching reruns of some reality cooking show and eating Thai takeout.

 

"No. I'm cool," I say nursing my beer. "This is the best part of my week so far, actually. I'm sorry if my pissy mood suggested otherwise."

 

"What? Wasting our youth watching this dumb shit? The cake didn't rise, oh lord he's a worthless human being with daddy issues. The drama." She moves her hands ominously. "How do they even come up with these things?"

 

"Yeah, well," I shrug. "I'm not complaining. Pass the peanut sauce."

 

###

 

I have another late shift at the bar the following Saturday. I haven't seen Eli or Katharina all week, but it still comes as no real surprise to see a broad form hunched over the bar when I walk in.

 

"Hey," I say. I pour a large tumbler of Jim Beam and slide it over to Eli without asking. He looks ragged, with dark circles under his eyes and faint traces of bruising down one side of his face. "Are you ok?"

 

"I am now. Hello, Gorgeous. Did I ever tell you my favorite tattoo?"

 

I roll my eyes and flip him the bird. "Your little friend Morticia was in last week, so, uh, thanks for that."

 

He perks up a little. "You talked to Kat? What'd she say?"

 

"What the hell?" I demand. "I don't know you. You don't know me. What's with sending in the crazy extreme role-playing representative? And seriously, you look like shit."

 

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it. So she copped a bitchy attitude? Figures," he grumbles.

 

"No, not particularly. It was decidedly vague, a little creepy, and then I think she came onto me at the end."

 

"God, I hate her. Well." He shrugs. "I tried."

 

"Yeah but  _ why _ , dude? For real, you make no sense."

 

"Get used to it. It's my nature. Hey, give me some dollars for the jukebox."

 

"No way. Do you know how much you ran me at Rainbow Grocery?"

 

Eli smiles, grabbing the two-dollar tip from the bar and sliding off his stool. "That is fucked and you know it," I call after him. He's wearing a stained wife beater, chunky boots, and a pair of plaid pants with one too many buckles to be taken seriously.

"You know, you're like a total caricature of yourself."

 

"What?" He stops flipping through albums and looks at me.

 

I clear my throat. "I said, personally, my impression was that this Katharina lady had a hidden agenda. I still haven't figured out what it is though."

 

Eli laughs. "That's all Kat is, a bunch of agendas all tangled together. Of course, I have one too, but I'd be more than happy to share it with you." His blue eyes flash dark giving me a hungry look that causes an unexpected twist in my stomach.

 

"Fuck off, perve," I tell him. "I'm not interested."

 

###

 

I'm walking home after closing. The heat has lifted a little in the last few days, letting everyone breathe for a change. It's only a little past two, but the streets are surprisingly empty for a Saturday night. I stop. So why the fuck do I feel like I'm being watched?

 

I hear footsteps, smell that oh so familiar announcement of supernatural presence. It just figures Eli wouldn't have gotten the hint earlier and would do something incredibly creepy like follow me home. Well I, for one, have had just about enough of being screwed with. I turn.

 

"Hey, Eli. I thought I told you I wasn't interested in any..." The approaching figure stops under a street lamp and I realize with mounting horror that this is not Eli. Not even close.

 

There is a grey tone to the man's skin, his cheekbones painfully sunken so that they cast purplish shadows across his face. It makes my heart pound in my ear.  _ Oh shit _ . Not good. I try to step back, try to look away, but suddenly I can't breathe. Something hits me hard in the chest knocking me on my ass. I grunt as I hit the pavement. My vision blurs and I think I might be sick to my stomach at the sudden sensation of something sucking painfully from my body—something deep as bones and breath and memory—my whole life force being unwillingly yanked out through my pores. This is a less than pleasant sensation.

 

Every nerve in my body shoots off at once as an unspeakable pain moves through me like lightning. I hear noise like choked, wet sobbing—wonder who's doing that for about two seconds—and then realizes those dying, gasping breaths have to be my own. I fight. I really do try to shake the thing off, but it hurts too much. I bite my tongue, my fists clenching and unclenching helplessly. It's pure torture and the more I struggle the worse it gets. Part of me thinks that it's hopeless. That this thing would kill me and the sooner I let it the sooner the pain would stop.

 

_ Yes  _ a voice says in my head soothingly _ , give yourself to me and it will all be better, so much better _ . I gasp trying to pull air back into my lungs, but it feels like a grown man is sitting on my chest. My mind is going blank, my vision turning gray. This is it, I think. How stupid. I'll never even get to find out why all of this is happening.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blueghostghost.tumblr.com for more info about my writing! I have a few things in the Haunted City verse that I will be posting over the next couple of weeks.


	3. Fifth Wheel

Two things happen, one after another. First, my forehead erupts in a sharp burning sensation that— while uncomfortable—starts to counteract the worst of the debilitating pain. 

And second, I hear a deep growly voice say from somewhere, "Stop it. He's mine. I've already claimed him, you fuck." My head lulls back and forth as I try to make my limbs work. What the hell is going on here? "If you don't back the fuck off right now I will crack you open like an egg," the voice continues. There is a sharp hiss and a wordless screeched objection. "I will pull out every one of those pointed yellow teeth and make you swallow them. Then I will sit out on a rooftop with a beer while I hold you down and watch the sun burn out those beady little eyes of yours." The presence untangles from my body suddenly and completely, making me cough.

"Yo, Potter, nap time's over. Come on, get up." I blink a couple of times and am promptly rewarded with the image of a grinning Eli above me.

"What just happened?" I croak out pitifully.

He crouches down by my head, boots making a scraping sound on the concrete as he studies me for a moment. 

"You've got, like, a pink star thingy on your face, dude. It looks super gay.” I frown, my whole body thrumming in discomfort. Eli reaches out to touch my forehead, and I swat his hand away.

"Don't," I say.

"Ooo cranky," he mocks. "You stink of fear you know. Don't worry it's gone. Those fuckers are more bark than bite anyway. You probably didn't even need my bad ass theatrics," he says lightly.

"It was trying to kill me." My tone is strangely detached.

Eli snorts. "Nah, not your life. It was just going for your soul. I know plenty of guys who don't have one of those, lucky bastards; and they are all the better off for it really. A soul's a sort of a fifth wheel to a wagon you know."

I sigh. "Well mine is still attached as far as I can tell. I mean, isn’t it?”

“Seems like it.”

“Whatever that thing was doing it hurt like a motherfucker."

"Yeah you really don't look so good. I'll walk you the rest of the way home if you want there, Lil' Red." Eli sits down cross-legged when he realizes I'm going to just lie on the ground for a while.

"So you'll know where I live? No way."

He laughs. "Jesus, Jack, don't insult me. I already know where you live." He feels around in his pockets and produces a pack of cigarettes. "God you really look like ass," he says with a smoke perched on his lip.

"Stop saying that, asshole, and help me sit up." He nods, reaching out and grabbing me by the arms with warm calloused fingers, hauling me up fast enough to make my stomach lurch. I have to put my hands on his broad shoulders to steady myself.

Eli smiles, snaking an arm around to press a palm into the small of my back. "Better not throw up on me there, darling. Here, you're alright. Have a cigarette."

I accept the smoke and a light with a shaky hand. I should really make him stop touching me, but I don't. "Eli, tell me the truth, I'm in serious danger aren't I? It's a curse right? Like, something is going to inevitably come along and do some real damage. I just don't get it. Why would anyone curse me?"

"Hmmm. That's kind of out of my area of expertise," he says. "I mean I don't normally tell people like you this, but I would have thought you'd be dead by now. I mean, the scent is pretty strong."

"Huh?"

"It's a death smell. We call it circling the drain. There is a certain sort of thing that humans get when they're gonna…" He suddenly stops himself.

"Humans?" I ask in alarm. "Then what in the hell are…"

"Forget I said that." His arm wraps tighter around my waist as he drags me forward, his mouth covering mine, devouring it almost violently. He draws my bottom lip between his teeth and sucks, making a deep rumbling sound in the back of his throat. I flail, my eyes wide and my breath coming in rapid gasps as I pull my mouth away from his, a shiver running up my spine.

"Eli, fucking quit it." Our limbs tangle in my struggles. It must be quite a sight, us sprawled out in a heap on the sidewalk. "I don't have the patience for this. Stop messing around." His smell is an overpowering mix of tobacco and musky maleness that is going straight to my groin, which makes no sense. The man is the opposite of my type, and he's currently wearing fishnet gloves for fuck sake. This is honestly a train wreck.

Eli nuzzles my neck, and I shiver again.

"Let me walk you home," he growls against the shell of my ear and then nips at the lobe. I drop my smoke in the dirt and arch up against him, biting into my bottom lip in order to keep from making an obscene noise. Fuck. He runs his tongue down the side of my neck.

"Stop it," I say, my face burning hot. "I am not interested, okay?"

"Really?" he sounds genuinely surprised. "Not even a little bit?"

"No."

"Huh." He presses his thick thigh between my legs hard, making me yelp and swat at his arm. "So who's this wood for then?"

"Get off, get off, get off," I hiss.

"Yeah I'm trying but you're being all squirrelly about it."

"Eli, seriously. I am never going to fuck you. Ever. Get off of me."

Eli shrugs dismissively and moves. "Fine princess. Whatever."

"Thank you," I say, running a hand through my hair and trying not to think about the feeling of his weight against me, the heat it causes to pool in my stomach. I am not attracted to some crusty gutter punk, my brain insists. If I really need to get laid so badly I could do a lot better than creepy Eli. "What was that thing anyway?"

"Low grade vampire. They are practically animals, you know if there was an animal that fed on human souls. Real trash. Certainly at the very least, Jack, you deserve a far more sophisticated demise than that."

"Oh that's so very nice of you to say." I finally roll to my knees and then drag myself to my feet. "How comforting that you hold me in such high regard."

Eli laughs and stands, draping an arm across my shoulders. "Come on, I'll make sure you get to your door in one piece. Man, I just get so jealous when someone else starts fucking with you. I’m seriously still pissed about it."

###

A couple of days later a pale lavender envelope is pinned to my front door when I get home from work. 'Jack' is written across the front in neat script with a single sheet of scented paper inside. The loopy handwriting states:

Dear Jack,

It is my understanding that you had a rather close call with your soul after we spoke the other night. It seems your condition may be more critical than I originally assessed.

Certain details of your family history have also come to my attention and I would like to speak to you about these matters as soon as possible. I know you are reluctant to work within the parameters of the Grand Council, but I urge you to reconsider. I have included my private number in this letter and request that you call me at your earliest convenience.

Warm regards, 

Katharina Levi

I read it twice and begrudgingly pick up my phone because when something tries to suck your soul from your body you really have to explore all available options of preventing that from ever happening again.

### 

"Thank you for meeting with me, Jack," Katharina practically purrs as she joins me at a table in the dimly lit hotel bar. She's carrying two drinks, and she slides one in my direction.

"Whiskey," she tells me. "You seem like a man that likes his whiskey."

"Mmm. Yeah that's fine." She is wearing a tailored pencil skirt and a cream silk blouse, her hair pinned up in a French twist. She has the same confident air of the other well-heeled young professionals that surround us. an unnoticed lion among jackals. "So does everyone know where I live or what?"

"I don't know." She gives a slight smile. "Who else is putting notes on your door?"

I can feel my face flush as I involuntarily think of Eli, his mouth, the smell of him..."You said you knew something about my family?"

"Ah yes." She pulls out a black leather bound appointment book, opening it to a bookmarked page. "Your twin." She pauses and looks at me.

"Yes?" I feel my breath catch.

"Was a witch. She is also dead, but I suspect you already know these things."

"Yeah, I kind of remember burying her, thanks. How do you know anything about Athena and maybe more importantly what's it to you?"

"Honey, you seem like a clever boy. If she had the gift—your twin—what do think the chances are you do too?"

"Uh, yeah, that's been sort of a non issue up to this point. I can't express to you how not interested I am in the supernatural. Of course, recent circumstances, well it's not that I feel more compelled to learn, but my ignorance is starting to feel irresponsible."

"Yes." She nods. "You need to understand the danger you're in, crossing over into our world like this. And not just to yourself. Everyone in your daily life as well."

"It's the curse right? I get rid of that and then this will all go away and I can go back to normal right?"

"Well sometimes people do and sometimes people don't," she tells me. "You can't un-see once you've seen. Would you mind telling me how long your sister has been haunting you?"

"What? Who told you that?" I hiss.

"It does not really matter," she replies coolly. "What does matter is you are a strong source of very dark, very powerful magic. Dangerous magic. It radiates off of you like heat to anyone who has the ability to sense it.”

This unnerves me. "But that's just the curse right? It's not me, me right?"

"Well, I strongly suspect it has something to do with Athena—your connection to her. Did your sister by any chance keep a record of her spells, a book perhaps? My constituency would very much like to examine that material."

I feel a sudden chill. "I don't know about anything like that." I lie. "As I said before, I never cared much for the family business until fairly recently."

"Might I suggest you start caring? There are forces at work here I am afraid we have yet to begin to comprehend." Her eyes go wide and her voice takes on the breathy cadence of a B movie actress.

"Waiting long to say that?" I ask, making her expression deflate into a sour frown.

"It worries me that you can't take this seriously. I fear you will suffer terribly for your arrogance." She says briskly. "But I sincerely hope that you do not. I am no monster and I can certainly do some research on curses based on what I know so far…but might I offer a word of advice?"

"Sure, please advise away," I say.

"How do I put this? Elijah Edelmann is possibly the last man in San Francisco I would recommend getting involved with."

"Oh." I blink. "I was under the impression you two were friends."

"It's not that big of a city, really," she hums. "One tends to become well acquainted with persons of interest, but I wouldn't call us friends."

"Are you going to say why you are so concerned about Eli, or just leave it at that?" I ask.

"Oh honey, isn't it obvious? The man is a beast."


	4. Whiskey Mouth

I make arrangements to go to Los Angeles. By the time I get the days off from both jobs and the car borrowed from my roommate it's going to be another week and a half before I can actually leave, but that's okay. It gives me time to try and figure out what I'm going to do once I get there _. _

_ Go to my apartment in LA, find yaya's book… _

 

I cannot shake the conversation I had with Athena, how real she had seemed, nothing like the wispy creature that I occasionally encountered around San Francisco. It is that vision, the one of her so alive, that lingers in my mind. Athena and I didn’t always see eye to eye, my refusal of our supposed birthright unthinkable to her, but I had loved her deeply,  taken for granite she would always be a part of my life no matter how different our chosen paths. My twin, my mirror. It is a loss I can’t fully process, can’t quite make real and the thought that she isn’t completely gone, that I can still touch some part of her, haunts me. 

 

I am afraid, but more than that I feel a steely determination begin to set it. I will do whatever it takes, cross all obstacles, to figure this shit out. Whatever Athena is asking of me, I will figure it out. I have to. 

 

###

 

"Boo!" I'm halfway home from my late shift when something jumps into my periphery view from behind a trash can. My heart leaps into my throat and I nearly piss myself. The relief that it's only Eli is fleeting. I hit his shoulder hard, my face becoming a mask of rage. "Fuck you asshole! That is not even close to funny! What's wrong with you?"

 

"Nothing," he puts an arm around my waist and kisses my ear. "Just walking ya home is all. I admit I was kind of hoping you'd scream like a girl though."

 

I shove him off, still trembling with fear and anger as I wipe at my ear where it tingles from his lips. "I hate you. Like, completely," I tell him.

 

Eli laughs, the chains hooked to his belt loops jingling as he tries to steal another kiss.

 

“Knock it off.” 

 

“Any news?” he asks, tone casual as he stops trying to molest me and shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

 

“Nope. Still cursed.” Eli make a humming noise you could almost mistake as sympathetic. 

 

“What are we gonna do with you, Potter?”

 

“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

 

###

 

I'm at a business lunch when I stare down at the garnish on my plate and frown. Parsley. My grandmother always said never to eat it, for it is an herb of that underworld queen Persephone, sweet balm of the dead; aromatic plant of witches. It is said to induce lust, but to cut it yourself severs sprouting love. A protection herb, a cosmic purifier left on the plate to cleanse a meal. How strange my world has become when I play at lawyer by day and whisper ancient prayers to plants in my head, spend half my nights learning this strange new language.

 

I sleep badly that night. Something scratches at the windows. The floor creaks. I spend far too much time staring at the ceiling and thinking about the smell of pine and cloves, the feel of a metal lip ring pressed against my mouth.

 

###

 

"This is totally my bar now." I ignore Eli as he slides into what is unfortunately becoming his usual spot by the door.

 

"Don't ignore me, sweetheart. I  _ saved _ you. What are free drinks for life compared to having a soul?" Eli gives me a wide grin when I glare at him. "Yeah I said it. What?"

 

I sigh but pour the Jim Beam and slide it in his direction. He's walked me home every late shift this week. I try not to admit to myself that I was starting to get nervous when I only had an hour left and he still hadn't shown up yet. I can't get reliant on someone else to keep me safe, and who's to say I'm really safer with Eli around anyway?

 

He rolls his sun-tanned shoulders in a relaxed gesture, and I look away—because that is the other problem lately. Sometimes, just sometimes, shit like that has started to look a little too appealing.

 

_ I am a disgusting person. _

 

###

 

They're both looking at me like I'm crazy and I throw up my hands defensively, almost knocking over Eli's drink. "Well it's not like it's a law or something."

 

"No. But it's weird," Poppy says. "Not even  _ The Hobbit _ ? You've never even read  _ The Hobbit?" _

 

"No. Not even The  _ Hobbit _ ," I reply, sipping off of Eli's whisky instead of pouring my own glass. His eyes follow me and I pretend not to notice. "I don't really like those kinds of stories."

 

"What kinds of stories?" Eli asks, catching my hand and taking the whisky from my fingers. "Like with wizards and monster and magic-oh-my? Those kind of stories?"

 

"Yeah." I flip him off when Poppy turns to help a customer. "Those kinds of stories, asshole."

 

"Well aint that a damn shame, Jack." I watch him tilt back and pour a generous amount of amber liquid down his throat. "Because now you are one of those stories."

 

###

 

"Okay, I've got one super veggie and a carnitas burrito and chips. You boys like hot sauce?" Poppy asks as she steps behind the bar and opens three dark beers. Eli takes a beer and the bag from her as I pay.

 

"Oh my God, thanks Pops, I haven't eaten all day," I tell her. It's my own fault. I made another mad dash to the Berkeley library between the office job and my shift.

 

"What are you guys looking for anyway?" Poppy glances at the odd assortment of books lying on the bar.

 

"It's for my next novel," Eli deadpans. "But I don't know," he says returning a soft cover on crystal energy to the stack. "These are all pretty moronic. I guess if you wanted to bone new age chicks you could pick up on some topics of conversation."

 

"Well I never said you had to read them," I snap. "I just said if you were going to sit there and drink you might as well take a look and see if you thought any of it was useful."

 

"Oh apologies, dude. I amend my statement then," he says with a snort. "If you wanna bone hippies or Jack, read these books." He makes a dramatic point of picking up another volume and sticking his nose in it. Poppy can't stop laughing for almost a whole minute.

 

"I really hate you," I say.

 

###

 

"If you keep looking at me like that I'm totally gonna stick my tongue down your throat."

 

"Oh God, how does anyone resist you?" I mock as we walk towards my apartment. Eli's mohawk doesn't have any product in it tonight. His hair is naturally curly and keeps flopping in his eyes when he moves.

 

He pauses to flick it to the side. "Oh man, just admit you want me. I can totally smell it on you anyway, you know."

 

_ What? Could that be true? _ I swing around, eyes wide. "You liar. You can not."

 

He laughs. "Sure I can. You want it. It's weird."

 

_ For fuck sake.  _ I stalk back and jam a finger at his chest. "Look here," I say. "I don't know what you're on about, but Katharina warned me about you. I don't trust anyone right now. And this isn't a stupid game for me."

 

Eli grabs my arm and holds me in place as he sniffs my neck. I shiver, imagine those calloused fingers pressing into more tender places than my bicep.  _ Stupid jerk. _ It's like the more I tell myself this is a bad idea, the more I want to do it. He chuckles. "You're still horny dude. Don't get mad at me about it. You can totally  _ be _ fucked and totally  _ get _ fucked at the same time. These are not mutually exclusive conditions."

 

I roll my eyes. "Goodnight, Eli."

 

He smiles and leans in. I don't pull away and then I am ever so slightly disappointed when all he does is lay a chaste, little kiss at the corner of my mouth. "Night, princess," he says, breath hot against my lips. "I'll see you Wednesday." He’s memorized my schedule. 

 

"Oh. I didn't tell you," I say pulling away a little. "I have to go down to LA for a few days. I should be back by Friday though…"

 

Eli looks annoyed. "LA? What for?"

 

"Um." I try to shrug casually. "Just something to do with a thing my sister said. It could be nothing but I want to check it out."

 

"Sister?" There's alarm in his voice. "The real witch? Your dead twin?"

 

"Hey! Who told you about Athena?" I demand. "Katharina? That's just awesome, Eli. I'm so glad I can be a source of gossip for you and your prissy, goth friend. One minute she's telling me how dangerous you are and the next you two are discussing my family tragedies. Well sorry, but I don't want to play. I'll be seeing you around." I yank my arm away and turn to go, but Eli follows at my heels.

 

"Talking to the dead is necromancy," he says to my back, voice low and serious. "It's about as risky as shit gets, especially for an amateur who can't find his ass with both hands."

 

I laugh, but the sound is kind of hollow and pinched. "Well if it makes you feel any better I didn't do it on purpose!"

 

"Jack…please." When I turn around, Eli makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and moves towards me. Then there are fingers in my hair and a hand possessively fisting the back of my shirt as we share the most intense, bruising kiss I've ever had in my life. He tastes like cigarettes and whiskey, all teeth and tongue-fucking my mouth. He bites my bottom lip, lays softer kisses across the sting. My hips jut forward and we're practically grinding against each other. God, he smells good.  _ Fuck, what is this? _ When he pulls back my face is hot, mouth swollen and bruised.

 

Eli makes a soft hissing sound and grimaces. "Ah, shit. You're wearing silver."

 

"Um…" He's right—there's the silver belt buckle and the little cross is around my neck, not to mention all the shit on my keychain.

 

He just shakes his head and makes a dismissive gesture at my expression. "Tell me about LA. Kat isn't my buddy. It isn't the way you think it is, man. I might not be all that helpful to you, but you can trust me with shit you don't want her to know."

 

I weigh my options for a minute and then sigh. "Yeah, yeah, okay. Come inside and we'll talk."

 

I step into the kitchen, Eli following closely behind. "My roommate is asleep." I warn, pouring myself a shot of whiskey and drinking it down fast before refilling it and then passing it to Eli. God I'm nervous. Which is strange. Maybe it’s having him in my house, the feeling that we’re crossing some kind of line.

 

"Thanks," he says and I shrug and turn to take two beers out of the fridge.

 

"You hungry? You want a corndog? I have some of those vegetarian ones." Last time I was at the store I bought them. I don't even know why.

 

"Oh," Eli raises an eyebrow, "you do, huh?"

 

I frown. "Yeah. I do. You want one or not?" My mouth still burns from the brutality of our kisses and my head is still buzzing. I wonder if I should try to talk about my family's book of spells or if we should just get some fucking out of the way first. This physical tension between us is getting distracting as hell. 

 

Eli takes the beer with a smirk. "Sure. I'd love a corndog."

 

"Okay, I'll microwave a couple. But then let's go eat them in my room."

 

"Yeah sure," he says cracking the top off his beer. 

 

"Whatever you say."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork for this story is on Blueghostghost.tumblr.com


	5. The safety latch

Eli looks at the bookshelves and my desk covered in law books and papers with interest as I shut the door to my room.

"What the hell is all this stuff?" he asks, picking up a report and frowning at the title.

"That's mostly from my internship," I say. "I'm getting my law degree, actually."

"I thought you were a bartender." Eli puts down the papers, still scowling.

I laugh. "Well I am a bartender—a bartender getting a law degree. Is that a problem?"

Eli shrugs. "It's a bit out of my element, I guess."

I smirk. "Really? I'm surprised." I put the plates of food on a table by the bed, cradling my beer in the crook of my arm. "You give the impression of someone who is often in need of legal representation."

Eli looks at me for a moment, his expression still unreadable and then scoffs. "As if I get caught. What kind of lawyer has so many tattoos anyway?" He sounds almost disappointed about the whole thing.

"Uh, one that can cover them with a suit. Don't worry about it, man. Why don't you just eat your corndog already? I'm going to put on some music."

Eli stands by the door a second longer and then follows me. "Let me see what you have going on here." He sits with his beer on the floor, flipping through my case of records idly. "Jesus Christ," he mutters. "You may be smarter than me, but your taste in tunes is shit. Really? Modest Mouse? Arcade Fire? " He shakes his head in frustration. "This will do, but you could use some serious intervention. Could you be any more of a pretentious hipster?"

He hands me a Modern Lovers record, our fingers brushing, shoulders almost touching. I try to look pissed, but put it on with the volume low anyway.

"Have you reestablished your authority by insulting my music then?" I lean in, closing the space between us, a little smile teasing the corners of my mouth as I invite another kiss. Okay, I admit it, he's still an ass, but Eli can be kind of cute sometimes—his habit of tonguing his lip ring, those swimming pool blue eyes, the way he gets all huffy when he's insecure… 

"Nope.” He says pulling away suddenly. “Still don't like hanging out with someone who might have his shit together. Can I smoke in here?" he asks briskly.

I pull back, too, a little surprised. "Yeah if you do it by the window." Eli gets up and grabs his corndog off the plate, stalking across the room with his shoulders tense. "What the fuck is your problem?" 

Eli pops the window open and sits on the sill, but he won't meet my eyes. God, moody much? "Nothing. Whatever. Let's just talk about your sister already. What are you going to LA for?" He takes a pack from his front pocket and then he's got a cigarette in one hand and a veggie dog in the other. He's wearing these torn black jeans tucked into purple Doc Martens, one ankle crossed over the other—thighs looking thick as fuck. I get a sudden image of them hairy and naked, my face pressed between them…"Uh earth to Jack?"

I cross my arms self-consciously. "Fine. My family kept a book of spells and notations. For reasons beyond obvious, my sister inherited it when our grandmother died. And Athena says it's still in her apartment in LA, or something that looked an awful lot like my sister said as much…in a dream."

Eli raises an eyebrow in my direction. "A dream? You are going to LA because you were told to in a dream?"

"Yeah. So?" I can feel myself turning red. I stand and cross the room, take the cigarette from his fingers and give it a long drag. "You have some other brilliant idea you've been keeping from me that you'd like to share?"

"No. I don't know anything about this shit. That's why I have the pleasure of owing Kat a favor."

I smile slowly. "So you asked her to help me?"

"No shit Sherlock." Eli rolls his eyes and shifts a little uncomfortably. "It wasn't because I like basking in her company." I press my leg between his splayed knees, bumping the window frame with my shin, and take it as a compliment when his eyes darken.

"She wants the book too, asked me if my family kept one. Said I should give it to her. I said I didn't have a clue what she was talking about."

"Huh." Eli finishes his corndog while he thinks that part over. "Well the only thing Kat ever cares about is power—mostly over other people. Be careful. I've learned the hard way that bitch is crafty."

I laugh. "You like me," I say with sudden smug realization. "You asked her to help because you care what happens to me."

Eli glares, his face flushing slightly. "Careful. It is a very fickle feeling, Jack."

"Mmm." I stub out the cigarette in a coffee cup from this morning. "Wanna fuck?"

Eli starts. I can feel his body jerk where our legs are touching and I can see his breath quickening. "Seriously? You have to ask?"

"I don't know." I shrug. "You were being all weird for a second there."

He grabs me by the front of the shirt and pulls. I stumble forward, crashing into him as he wraps his warm arms around my shoulders, pulling me down for a hard kiss. I nip at his bottom lip, suck the ring between my teeth.

Eli hisses as if in pain, pushing me away. "Fuck. Take off the silver, man." I freeze, a chill running through me at the reminder that I'm so in over my head with this stuff. Whatever, to hell with it. I'm going to fuck this guy off my mind already.

"Yeah okay." I take a step back, fingers fumbling with the silver buckle, before giving it a tug and letting it fall to the floor. I take off my grandmother's cross and put it on the bedside table.

"Better?" I ask.

Eli leans forward, elbows on his knees and grins. "It's a fine start, but you're gonna need to take off a little more than that sweetheart." I like the way he's looking at me, the hungry edge to it. I let his blatant desire feed my own as I grab the hem of my t-shirt and pull it over my head. I haven't had a first time hook up with someone in a while and that weird nervous anticipation of what it's going to be like heats up my blood. Warmth pools in my stomach when Eli makes a low whistle of approval.

"You like what you see?" I know he does, but I want to hear it.

Eli responds by leaping from the window, knocking into me and grabbing at my hips to guide us backwards until the back of my knees hit the bed and we tumble onto it. Eli climbs up, straddling my hips, hands catching my wrists and pinning them roughly above my head.

"Mmm-hmm." He's inches from my face, eyes feral now, hair tickling my forehead. "This is fucking awesome. Your skin is getting all pink and flushed and shit. God, you're going to be a hot mess with my cock up your ass."

I scowl even as my jeans grow too tight. "That's a little presumptuous don't you think?"

Eli snorts. "Uh no. You're practically gagging for it." He leans down to suck along my collarbone and I bow my head and bite his ear—hard. Eli grunts at the pain, but then he kisses me on the mouth again, rolling our hips together as his tongue plunges inside, wet and sloppy. The grip on my wrists tightens as he sucks all the air out of my lungs. Then his mouth is at my ear, breath hot and ticklish.

"Or maybe,'" Eli says, his voice a low whisper, "you like it mean. Maybe you just want me to take what I want, and mark you up while doing it?" My eyes slide closed and I chew my bottom lip to keep from moaning. "Yeah, yeah yeah. Fuck you're hot." Eli sucks at my neck again, leaving a trail of burning skin as he works across my shoulders and down my chest. I finally cry out and arch up when he takes one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking and biting and seriously why am I still wearing pants?

"Fuck." I gasp. My hand is in Eli's hair, yanking and twisting in the curls of his mohawk. He snarls and bites my other nipple harder, making me jerk and squeak out incoherent curses. Eli laughs at my distress, and I remember how much I hate him.

"Here. Scoot up on the bed, Jack." Eli rolls off and pulls his shirt over his head. Now that I like. Eli's got a body torn straight from the pages of a 1950s fetish magazine, a blue-collar kind of physique that comes from manual labor and not hours spent at a gym. I've never harbored any major drinking, smoking, fighting macho-man fantasies myself, but all of a sudden I can see the appeal. Yeah okay, if Eli wants to push me around a little during sex, I guess I'm game.

And holy shit, I forgot his nipples were pierced. Two can play at this sweetheart. I sit up, taste the steel rings with the tip of my tongue, swirling it around. He smells incredibly masculine, a little bit musky but in a good way. My hands run up his broad back as I bury my nose in chest hair. Eli makes a sharp noise and shoves me down roughly onto the mattress making my shoulders bounce.  
I sit up on my elbows and watch as he leans over and runs his tongue down the plane of my stomach. He pauses to suck harshly just below my belly button as his fingers attack the waistband of my jeans—already loose from a lack of a belt. Eli yanks off my pants and boxers, watching with interest as my freed cock bumps against my belly. 

"Okay, enough cuddling," he rumbles deep in his throat. "Gonna fuck you real hard now. Where are the condoms?"

"Mmm." I nod. "In the drawer of the bedside table with the slick." He makes to turn in that direction, but I cup his cheek with my hand, kiss him slow and intently, letting the bitter pine and clove taste of Eli run down my throat. He finally pulls away to fuss with the laces of his Doc Martens, toeing them off and stripping the rest of the way naked. Goddamn. I imagine trying to take him in my mouth, the feel of him nudging at the back of my throat as I bury my nose in that thick thatch of pubes. He reaches across me a moment later to open the drawer, warm and good where our bare skin touches.

"Whoa, dude, what are these?"

I make a choking sound as Eli dangles a pair of handcuffs in front of my face. "Uh. Those are just a joke. From a, um, friend." I can feel myself blushing hot. Of all the stupid times to forget those were in there.

"You pervy pervy little law student," he mocks. "Where's the key?"

"What? There isn't one. They aren't real. Look," I say in annoyance. "Can we get on with this? It was a stupid joke. I don't know why I kept them."

"Then how do you get them back off?" Eli asks, curiously examining the cuffs.

"Jesus. There's a safety latch. On the side. Eli, quit messing around with those."

He finds the latch and clicks the loop open and shut a few times. "Oh yeah I see now. Cool. Sit up a bit. Put your hands together behind your back."

My mouth hangs open. "What? You have to be joking."

Eli grins. "Come on. Do it. It'll be hot."

"No."

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Shut up." I roll my eyes and distract him with another deep kiss, running my hands up his chest. I push Eli around, nudging him down onto the bed so I can straddle his bare hips. "Just stop talking."

I grab his thick cock with one hand—pumping it lightly—and reach for a condom and lube with the other. I let our cocks slide together, fist them against each other. Heated by the sound of Eli's gasps and groans, I waste no time preparing him and guiding myself down, the slick making it possible to let him inside in one smooth stroke, but still impatiently enough to know I'll feel it the next day.

Hands on his chest, I ride him hard and deep, head back, using the big body beneath me for my own pleasure. Eli meets my rhythm easily, hips snapping up in time with my motions as his fingers leave bruising marks on my sides. I like to bottom plenty, but the guy's got to move right while we're doing it or it isn't really worth it for me.

The smell of sweat and sex grows thick in the air. Fuck yes. Just a little longer and I'll add my hand to the mix…

Suddenly Eli grabs my wrists and pulls them behind my back. My eyes fly open in shock. Then, I hear the click of the cuffs, feel the cool pinch of metal on my skin. "Mmm, you're mine now." I blink, pupils blown out, half gone in a heady lust. What the fuck?

I give a surprised shout as he shoves me off hard and onto my back, my head now resting at the foot of the bed. Eli yanks my thighs wide apart, his fingers digging in, leaving yet more bruises. Our eyes lock. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I demand. The blood is pounding in my ears, my hands crushed awkwardly under me as the metal digs into my lower back.

"You're pretty enough fucking yourself on my dick." He lets go of one of my legs to line himself up. I feel the beginning pressure of the head of his erection, that burning stretch as he finds the right angle. "But I don't want to let you off that easy." 

There is a twisting excitement in the pit of my stomach. I don't like being turned on by this ridiculous, humiliating position—legs splayed in the air with a grinning Eli between them, arms pinned, ass exposed and inviting—oh God but I am. I'm so hot for this, it's scary.

"Do it already."His hips snap forward. "Jesus, fuck Eli." I gasp at the sudden re-entry. I should be mad about it, about this stupid game I didn't even want to play in the first place. But when he starts a demanding fuck, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in again and again, I am reduced to shuddering moans.

He is mixing shallow little thrusts with the long hard deep ones, and it's starting to hurt so good my muscles go tight. My hips ache, the joints of my shoulders burning. Eli is sweating and the sweat is dripping on me in little droplets, and if the funk was strong before, now it's just downright legendary.

Eli catches my hair in a fist, pulling hard and holding me in place as he pounds into my body, mouths almost touching, warm breath rushing across my face. I bite down on my bottom lip, screw my eyes shut. 

"Yeah, Jack, take it. Take that cock. You love it." He reaches between us as he talks, stroking me off in quick dirty movements. I am surprised by how fast and hard it makes me come, a startling, body wracking pleasure that resonates from my groin and makes my extremities shake. Eli pulls out too fast, making me gasp. He rips off the condom and with a deep moan comes in stringy ropes across my chest, adding his release to my own.

###

"Fuck dude, that was like some kind of poetry." Eli has his back up against the headboard and me with my head on his chest as he massages the blood back into my hands. It feels weirdly intimate. "That is totally going on my top ten list."

"Mmm." I trace the pattern of old scars on one of his hands. "Yeah, it was better than I thought it would be."

Eli grunts and smacks my thigh. "Asshole."

"What?" I intone, turning my head to look up at him. "That totally was a compliment."

"Maybe on your planet." Eli makes a face. "Whatever. Thanks anyway, princess."

I scoff. "Well what am I supposed to say then? I had no idea you had such delicate sensibilities."

"God, you must really want to be limping tomorrow with the way you're running your mouth." Eli rolls me off of him and onto my stomach as I let out a squawked protest. I feel the heat of him at my back, hear him laughing. He brushes the hair from my face. "Oh baby, I think I can improve on better than I thought it'd be. Don't you?"

###

Eli is across the room turning off the light when I wake up, bleary eyed and confused. "Nngh. What time is it?"

"Probably around four. You crashed hard right after we got out of the shower. Gonna sleep here for a while okay?"

"Umh." I make a sound that could be taken for agreement. It's warm enough to only need a sheet but I still scoot closer when Eli climbs up onto the bed. He obliges, wrapping a loose arm around my shoulder.

"You're going to LA on Wednesday?" He asks against my neck.

"Yeah."

"Cool. I'll go with then," he says casually. "You know, just to keep you from doing anything exceptionally stupid."

"Really?" I sound entirely too hopeful but I'm too tired to hide my relief at the idea.

"Yeah. It'll be fun. We'll fuck some more. Why not?"

I just nod. "Why not," I murmur as I drift off to sleep feeling the safest I have in a long time.


	6. Sister

I wake up alone with the mid morning sun coming in through the windows. I'm sore, the map of where Eli has been in the early hours coming up in purple patterns, the smell of him all over the sheets and my body. I press the palms of my hands to my eyes and groan. I must be losing my goddamn mind to have fucked Eli, more or less agreed to fuck him again if he's really going to show up for this LA thing. I shake my head. What does it really matter anyway? The sex was good. It isn't like we're dating or anything…

It matters, I reminded myself, because Eli is not some guy you brought back from the bars. He hangs around because you smell like death and he likes it. He told a soul-sucking vampire you belonged to him! And then you let him restrain you and fuck you senseless. Isn't that a kind of non-verbal agreement?

Shit.

And since when is removing my protective silver so I can bone an erotic turn on anyway? Isn't that like the supernatural equivalent of bare backing or something? Stupid. And maybe worst of all I don't think I've slept so well since this whole thing started. It's like I just stopped worrying about every little bump in the night because I knew Eli was there, could feel his bare chest pressed against my back and hear the soft sound of his snoring, and evidently that made me feel safe.

Double shit.

I roll out of bed and pull on a pair of boxers, then flip the record, turning on the player before digging through my coat for some smokes. Jonathan Richman is singing something slow and sad about the girl he loves being in the hospital. It puts me in a pensive mood. Okay, seriously, I just needed to think this through a little better. A reasonable person can puzzle anything out if he just gives it enough time. Come on, Ajax, think.

I've cleaned up the plates and beer bottles from the night before and am on my third cigarette when there is a knock on my bedroom door.

"Just a sec," I say, pulling on jeans. "Yeah?" Sarah is wearing a hoodie and pajama pants, her blonde hair swept up into a loose ponytail. Jesus, I kind of hope she wasn't actually home now that I think about it. We weren't exactly quiet.

"Nice love bites." She smirks. "I guess I know what you were up to last night. Does he have a name?"

"Ugh." I scowl, fingers tracing my neck. "Is it bad? Shit, let me put a shirt on."

She crosses the room and perches on the windowsill in the same place Eli had the night before. "I was going to complain to you about the truly abysmal date I had with Lars, but now I want to hear about your love life more."

"Not much to tell." I shrug. "He's kind of weird. Not really my type at all."

"Well that and he's a vampire," Sarah says breezily.

"What?" I feel the color drain from my face.

"It's a joke. Jesus Christ, what's wrong with you? You haven't seen your neck yet have you? Total suckage man." She laughs. "I have some concealer if you want. I'll put it on for you. The trick is to use this little makeup brush." She raises an eyebrow and gives me a knowing look. "Sooo you must have been really drunk or really into it to let him do that to you."

I can feel my face burn as I try to decide if I should grace that particular observation with an answer. God she's totally right though. "Yeah, well." I roll my eyes. "I'll probably sleep with him again…so there's that."

She snorts and swings her legs. "Alright, sweet then! Hey, you don't look so good. Are you hungover or something?"

I realize I'm pressing my fingers against my eyelids again and stop. "No, it's just that things have just been kind of weird lately, you know?" She doesn't know. She couldn't know. I hope she'll never know.

"You work too much. You're gonna have a nervous breakdown or something," she tells me.

"Ha, ha, ha, very funny."

"Becca and I are going to Stinson Beach today, you should come—sunburns, beer, sand in our food. What's not to like? Of course, if you go walking around in swim trunks everyone's going to know what a dirty dirty boy you are."

"As tempting as spending a day getting heckled by you ladies is, I have to go to Berkeley and do some research."

"But it's Sunday! Come on Jack." Sarah pouts. "You only live once."

"Exactly," I tell her. Sarah has a way of getting to the heart of a thing without knowing she has arrived. "No really. I have to. Believe me, this is a very time sensitive case. By the way, have you noticed anything funky going on with the plumbing?"

###

Eli turns up around eight on Wednesday morning. He's leaning in the doorway, smirking, wearing these pinstriped pants, the purple Doc Martins, and a black skinny tie. He's also teased up his hawk, fresh streaks of blue running through it.

"Umm. What's with the outfit?" I ask.

"We're going to LA aren't we?"

"Yeah." I frown. "I don't get it." I mean, I can't possibly imagine he cares anymore about what people think of him in one city than any other. And in Eli terms this is downright trying.

Eli just laughs and shakes his head, switching his beat to hell duffle to the other shoulder. "Why don't you go get your things, Beautiful, and we'll get this dog and pony show on the road?"

"Sure," I say, gesturing for him to come in. "There's coffee in the kitchen if you want some."

"Hell yes, I want coffee."

"Oh, Eli," I say over my shoulder. "This is my roommate Sarah. Sarah this is my friend Eli." 

Sarah, who is sleepily eating Lucky Charms at the table, suddenly perks up. "Is he the biter?" she asks with her mouth still half full of surgary cereal. "You fit the profile—no offense. He's going to LA? Don't you dare do anything gross in my car."

"Sarah! Seriously shut up," I say, my face flushing.  
She just shrugs lazily. "What? Like it isn't obvious."

"I think I like you." Eli leans against the counter. "But maybe we should go over your definition of gross? Just in case."

"No! This conversation is completely over," I command sharply. "Both of you shut up. Now how do you take your coffee, asshole?"

Eli gives Sarah a knowing look. "Is he always like this in the morning?"

"He's studying law," she observes, as if that was enough of an explanation.

"Your coffee?" I demand.

"Cream, two sugars, but I'll do it. Go get your stuff."

"Nuh uh." I shake my head. "There's no way in hell I'm ever leaving you alone with my roommate."

###

I thank Sarah again for the use of the car as I hastily steer Eli out the front door and across the street. Jesus Christ. Could that have been more awkward?

I'm jangling the keys of the old Nissan as we walk, relieved that we're finally on our way—towards…well wherever—when suddenly I'm being pushed hard and forced up against the driver side door. My yelp of protest is cut off by a rough, insistent kiss. Eli tastes like coffee, both bitter and sweet on my tongue. My hands press against his chest as my heart rate spikes and heat pools in my lower abdomen. My breath comes out in quick gasps as his mouth moves to my neck and sucks. I want him so badly all of a sudden I consider suggesting we go back inside.

"Careful," Eli growls against my ear. "I can still drag you upstairs to your room and fuck the shit out of you. God, you smell really good. Do you know how crazy that makes me?"

"No way." I bat at Eli's arm, gesturing him backwards so I can turn around and unlock the car, an unwilling smile spreading across my face even as my lips still burn from their recent assault. "Not until we get to LA, idiot."

"Alright there, cinnamon carter, why don't you sketch out your big plan then? Can I smoke in the car?"

"Yeah, Sarah doesn't mind, thank Jesus, just roll the window down. Cinnamon what?"

"Uh Mission Impossible? Never mind forget it." Eli digs through his duffle before producing a CD and sliding it into the player, flipping through the tracks until a cacophony of blaring drum rolls fills the air.  
I wince as I start the engine. "What is that?"

Eli smiles. "Shh, baby, relax," he says soothingly, patting my thigh. "You're gonna totally love this. Trust me. It only hurts the first time."

I let out a clipped laugh. "Oh man, you sound like my high school boyfriend. Does it have to be that loud?"

"Well now he sounds like a charmer and it's late 80s Sonic Youth, so yes it has to be that loud. I would have started at the beginning, but it's a little emo for the first scene of a road trip, if you know what I mean. First part's more for the moody Steinbeck Salinas Valley portion of the journey so I'm saving it accordingly. Don't look at me like that. I read books and I've thought about this and it's specifically for your benefit, so at least try to enjoy it."

"Fine. What's it called?"

"What's what called?"

"The album."

"Oh. Sister. It's a reference to Philip K. Dick's dead twin. Apparently he was kind of messed up about that too."

We stop talking while I sort out which freeway we need to be on, and the only sound is the grind of guitars and a constant rattle of drums. Eli smokes, the cool bay breeze coming in through the open window.

"LA is where she died isn't it?" he asks after a long time.

"Yeah. But that's not why I'm going. I've got to go to her apartment. I mean, her old apartment from when she was living and all."

"Why? You know," Eli says thoughtfully. "I've been around this super stuff longer than you. I've seen some shit. Say what you saw was really her—or some aspect of the sister you knew. That is a long shot in and of itself, but on top of that the dead are not all that easy to communicate with. They're scattered at best, completely insane most of the time."

"It was Athena."

"Sure you wanted it to be. That's not the same thing."

"Then why are you coming with me if you think it's so impossible?"

"It's still dangerous. Probably more than we realize, considering this is you we're talking about. Dealing with the dead is necromancy and that is a branch of study that most people are better off steering clear of."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you tying yourself to an anchor that is in the realm of the dead. Very very dangerous bullshit, friend."

"Well whatever," I say. "It's sort of a calculated risk isn't it? I mean I can't do nothing. I'm going to be some sort of super snack any day now and end up sharing smokes with Athena anyway. Like I told you before, my family kept a book. It's important. I need it. Athena says it's in her old LA apartment."

"Where?"

"Don't know."

"Who lives there now?"

"Don't know that either."

"So what now? You're just going to go up and knock on the door and introduce yourself?"

"Yeah exactly like that. I'm going to say: hi, my dead sister's ghost says she hid my grandmother's book of shadows somewhere in your apartment. May I and my hostile looking friend here have a rummage around your place?"

"What? I don't look hostile."

"Oh. So it was just your charming personality that made me empty out my wallet that first night?"

Eli lets out a snort. "Oh yeah that."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah that. Anyway, I think it might be better if I just figure out a way to get into the apartment when nobody is home. "

"Look at you. My goody goody little lawyer is suddenly talking about some dirty B&E action. You know I'm getting wood right now just thinking about it? Heh. I can get you in there no problem. I even brought my picks.”

"You what? Oh Fuck. I can't believe I'm doing this."

###

I stop the car at a tree-lined curve in the road and turn off the engine. The canyon is cool, full of the sound of birds.

"So this is where it happened?"

"Yeah." I take a deep breath and nod. "According to the police report for some reason the right tires drifted off the edge of the road. She lost control of the car as it spun out counterclockwise. The driver's side hit a tree on the opposite side of the road before it stopped. It would have been right over there. I saw pictures. It was pretty damn bad. She was dead before they could use that Jaws of Life thing to get her out."

Eli lights two cigarettes in his mouth and hands one to me. I take it and get out of the car. I thought I might cry coming here—might be struck by the weight of my grief, but Athena's death has filled all the corners of my life, become such a part of my everyday that it doesn't feel anymore real here than at any other time. In fact, just the opposite. I finish my cigarette while Eli waits, listening to the whoosh sound of passing motorists, and then I get back into the car.

###

I'm signing us into a hotel room when the guy tries to give me back my ID, and Eli grabs it instead. 

"Your name is Ajax?" he says in surprise, examining the details of my information. Now the hotel clerk, an old dude with glasses, is giving me a decidedly dubious look as he hands over the key.

"Give me that," I snap, snatching my license back and pocketing it.

"Whatever, A-JAX. Haha. Athena and Ajax. That's real cute."

"Stop it." I shove Eli out of the office. He swings around, reaching up and cradling the back of my head as he kisses me in the parking lot. "No, stop it," I repeat.

"Heh." His breath tickles against my cheek. "Whatever. Let people stare. I don’t care. Come on, Beautiful, what's the room number? I wanna fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi at blueghostghost.tumblr.com


	7. you make me Iliad

"Odysseus of many resources, scion of Zeus, son of Laertes, what could your resolute mind devise that exceeds this: to dare to descend to Hades, where live the heedless dead, the disembodied ghosts of men?"–Achilles, Homer: The Odyssey, Book XI

 

###

 

We tumble into the room all hands and tongues and teeth. I'm hopelessly flattening Eli's stupid hawk, pawing at him like he's driving me crazy, like I need him right this second. I back up through the door and sit on the patterned bedspread. Eli is smiling smugly over me, looking arrogant and expectant, his crotch inches from my face.

 

I feel a hot flush of humiliation as I work Eli's spike studded belt; he's being a pushy asshole about this and I want him too much to care. I might even be getting off on it. Maybe. I decide that I will deal with any residual regret for my sluttiness later.

 

I hook my thumbs into the waistband of his pants, pushing them off his hips and pulling his cock free. It's warm and thick in my hand as I trace my tongue down the underside of the shaft, tasting the musty saltiness of his skin after half a day in a hot car.

 

"Take off your shirt, I want to see your piercings," I instruct, glancing up through my lashes as I swirl my tongue around the fat head of his cock. Eli grunts as I let the entire length slide into my mouth, nudging the back of my throat as I force myself to relax into it, enjoying the feeling of him sliding over my tongue.

 

Eli throws his tie on the floor, undoing the buttons of his shirt without breaking eye contact, watching me intently. I make an appreciative humming noise at the view, letting my hands splay over the newly exposed skin as I move my lips slowly. Then Eli's fingers are catching in my hair, pulling hard and holding my head still so his hips can snap forward rhythmically, burying my nose in prickly feel of pubic hair as he fucks my mouth.

 

"Oh fuck yeah," Eli growls, his breath coming in gasps. "Your mouth is mine now." My cock jumps at that. I am practically sitting up and begging for it, fighting for air, jaw starting to ache, and all I want to do is come. Eli makes a few uncontrolled thrusts, desperate and hard—no effort to make it last. I can feel his muscles go tight under my hands as he shoots down my throat bitter and hot. I pull back, pushing myself all the way up onto the bed. My hands go to the fly of my jeans, uncomfortably tight now.

 

"Mmm, yum." Eli crawls up onto the bed after me, kicking off his shoes and pants as he does. He nuzzles into the crook of my neck and sucks. I groan at the erotic sting, push the waistband of my jeans down my hips. "Damn baby, you are sex on a stick when you wanna be."

 

I snort and arch up into him at the same time. "Ha. What?" We kiss, long and deep, Eli tasting himself in my mouth. By the noises he's making I think he likes it.

 

"You're usually so…I don't know." He pushes my shirt up over my head and then studies my naked chest for a moment. "You're just different like this…”

 

I frown. "Different when I'm naked or different when I'm having sex?"

 

Eli laughs, shaking his head. "Never mind. Forget it. I'm happy to be here when the clothes come off, so whatever."

 

"Yeah good." His face is a little flushed, mouth puffy and bits of his deflated mohawk are sticking to his forehead.  _ Fucking gorgeous in its own way _ . "So stop talking already."

 

"Heh. Oh yeah? Is this what you want?" He takes his time, biting and sucking, teasing as he removes the last articles of my clothing, a nip on the ribcage, sucking kisses on the insides of my thighs, maddening in its indirectness. I arch up, make a pleading noise in the back of my throat. The thick masculine smell of him alone is driving me crazy. Eli pulls away, looks at my face and smiles at what he sees there. "Tell me about your tattoos," he says voice rough, hands wandering over my inked skin.

 

My eyes squeeze shut. I wonder if my expression is as pained as I feel. "You fucker.  _ Why _ are you still talking?"

 

Eli gives a breathy chuckle, running a finger across my lips, his other hand on my side. "Already got my rocks off once, sweetness. I've got all night."

 

"Shut up and fuck me." I squirm under his touch, and Eli removes his hands altogether. I moan my disappointment, eyes flying open. "What the fuck Eli?"

 

"Tattoos," he instructs.

 

"Fuck me first." I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

 

"Nope. Tattoos."

 

Of all the stupid, ridiculous, fucking moronic…"Fine," I snap, blinking a few times to try to get the part of my brain that forms speech working again. "Which one?" Eli's hands return, stroking over my body appraisingly.

 

"Whose this guy?" He leans over to run his tongue across my inner forearm. "Looks like some kind of ancient world warrior pin-up."

 

"Yeah. Ah!" I gasp as Eli bites down on the tender skin and sucks. "It's Achilles, from The Iliad, greatest fighter in Agamemnon's army. That's Patroclus on the other arm. His best friend, and lover. They were buried together."

 

Eli licks up one arm. "Tastes good, really good. What about here?" He taps my upper arm.

 

"Mmm. The Moirae, you know, the three Fates. When Hector kills Patroclus he tells him he was an idiot for taking a shot at him and it's true Hector is the more experienced soldier. But Patroclus says it was the Fates that killed him—first he's wounded in battle and then Apollo stuns him—so Hector is only his third killer and shouldn't be so stoked about it. It's pretty badass."

 

Eli nips and licks across my shoulder, making me squirm. "And here?"

 

"The Achaean fleet." I sigh. "Face that launched a thousand ships right?" Eli sucks on a particularly sensitive spot on my neck just above the collarbone. "Oh my fucking God, Eli!"

 

Eli pulls back and grins down at me, the flash of teeth making him look feral. "I really like you like this… _ A-JAX _ ."

 

"Fuck you."

 

"Shh." He smoothes the hair back from my face. "Be patient baby. We're getting there. Okay, tell me about this one, the heart with the sword running through it." He licks it and then the nipple just below, before biting down.

 

"Ahh! Shit!" My head is swimming with a mix of pleasure and pain. "Um, so in The Iliad, Ajax is the one that brings back Achilles' body from the Trojans. That's the big tattoo on my back—him carrying the body. _Eli please. Oh God._ _Fuckfuckfuck_." He rolls himself further on top of me and switches his attention to the other nipple, clamping his hands down hard on my hips to keep me from thrusting up against his bare skin.

 

"Shh breathe," he murmurs against my chest. "Tell me about the heart."

 

"If you ask me about all of my tattoos, I will kill you." Eli pulls away again and waits, halfway sitting on top of me, not moving.

 

"Okay. Fine." I groan. "So everyone wants Achilles' shield. It represents the world: rivers, villages with dancing children, farms, wine, stars… When Odysseus takes it, Ajax throws himself on his own sword in despair."

 

"Jesus, you Greeks sure love your tragedies. Do you have any stories that aren't fucked up?"

 

I sit up enough to kiss, sucking in Eli's bottom lip between my teeth, licking his lip ring. "The Greeks were into something else too. Let me show you."

 

"Mmm, but I haven't found the Trojan horse yet."

 

I hit his shoulder. "Shut up. No more talking. Eli, I mean it. What a way to treat a guy that just sucked you off."

 

Eli rolls off me and laughs. "You're sexy when you're mad. Turn over baby, on your hands and knees." He gives my thigh a light slap of encouragement. I pause, briefly conflicted, then shrug and do it, spreading my thighs in invitation.

 

Eli makes a rumbling sound deep in his throat. "Oh yeah. That is a nice sight right there." He gets the lube and condoms out of my bag, crawling up behind and preparing me slowly this time, moving fingers in and out of my body methodically, adding more slick as needed, until I'm swearing at him, pushing back, trying to get Eli to fill me more.

 

He holds my hip in a bruising grip, keeping me in place with one hand as he puts on a damn condom already and starts to slide in, inch by trembling inch, until my curses become incoherent guttural sobs and I'm digging my fingers into the bedding. I feel hypersensitive and full, every little touch and twitch driving me crazy.

 

When Eli finally— _ finally _ —gives in and starts a hard, steady fuck with the heavy weight of his balls slapping against my ass, I'm half gone already, eagerly pushing back to meet his thrusts, urging him to do it harder, to go deeper.

 

He leans over me, kissing across my back, mouth tracing over the epic battles between Greeks and Greek Gods playing out across the planes of my shoulder blades. He runs his hands down the sweat-slicked skin of my stomach, and then he's pumping my cock in time with our movement. It seems to go on forever, a relentless deep pounding that makes me moan in a way that has my cheeks burning in embarrassment.

 

Then his tongue finds the place in the middle of my back that I know has the image of Achilles' shield. He bites down, tasting rivers and wine and stars as he bucks hard and comes. I shudder, spilling into his hand with a muffled shout as my legs tremble and threaten to give out.

 

###

 

Eli comes back into the hotel room wearing no shirt and no shoes, just jeans, low slung on his hips without a belt. He's carrying the cheap plastic ice bucket and two cans of cola. I'm just out of the shower, toweling my hair, and he gives me a good leering once over.

 

"Hey," he says cheerfully. "Just ran out to the vending machine. Wanna whiskey and coke?"

 

I smile in surprise. "We have whiskey? Cool. Yeah I'll have one." I pull on some boxers and sit on the bed, watching Eli take out a bottle of Wild Turkey from his stuff and mix our drinks. "There's a good Thai place in this neighborhood. I used to go there with Athena. Want me to check and see if they deliver?"

 

"Sure. As long as it's vegetarian I'll eat whatever." He hands me my drink and then holds up his own glass. "To solving the mystery of the missing spell book," he says in an ominous tone.

 

I tip my cup against his. "Cheers to that I guess."

 

###

 

I wake in the night to the smell of tobacco smoke mixed with leftover takeout food. I rub at my eyes and sit up. Eli's at the little table by the door, playing what looks like a game of solitaire, a cigarette perched on his lips. An ethereal looking Athena sits in the chair across from him silently watching, her image blinking in and out like a light bulb on the fritz. My breath catches and they both look my way.

 

"Hey," Eli says casually. "She's been here about an hour, not very communicative or anything, you know, just around. I was keeping her company to be polite. Wanna come over here and play some Go Fish?" I nod, pulling back the covers and get out of bed to join them. 

 

###

 

I yawn and try to shake off the lack of sleep from my system. "So here's my plan," Eli says, handing me a coffee from the café across the street.

 

"Thanks." We're standing in the parking lot. The lights to Athena's old apartment are all off, and I've already tried knocking on the door to no answer. 

 

"So it looks like no one's home. Uh now what?"

 

"I'm gonna go around back and try to get in through the window. Then I'll just let you in the front door nice and easy." 

 

"It's the middle of the day? Won't someone see you?"

 

"Nah. I'll be quick like a bunny. So you just hang tight and drink your coffee."

 

"Okay." I press my fingers to my eyes. "I can't believe we're doing this…" 

 

He leans in, giving me a quick kiss. “Don’t even worry about it. This is cake.” It takes Eli less than five minutes to open the front door and gesture me inside. I'm not sure if I'm impressed or a little disturbed by this.

 

###

 

"Eli, seriously, quit touching things. We're not here to mess with this person's stuff."

 

He gives a shrug and puts down the ceramic cat he'd been examining. "Whatever, I got us in, Hot Lips, now what?"

 

"I don't know."

 

Eli rolls his eyes and picks up a magazine on knitting before sitting down on the floral couch with a sigh. "Well let me know when you get any good ideas. I suppose you'll get pissy if I smoke."

 

I scowl. "I'm going to go get a glass of water. Do you want one?"

 

"I thought you said no touching."

 

"I'm going to wash it and put it back. I think that's forgivable."

 

"Unlike this décor, God, hurry up and find your grandma's recipe book before I hurl."

 

I snort. "I hadn't realized you had such delicate design sensibilities."

 

"Just find the fucking book, Princess," Eli says without looking up from his reading material. "Chop chop."

 

I go into the kitchen and turn on the faucet, rubbing my temples. I wish I could come up with a believable reason to send Eli back out to the car without making him suspicious. I am out of time, and I need to talk to my sister, and I'm pretty sure he won't approve of what I'm about to do.

 

It had finally occurred to me last night as I was falling asleep for the second time, about the part in The  _ Odyssey _ when the witch Circe instructs Odysseus to enter Hades and speak to the dead by feeding them the blood of sacrificed animals.

 

_ Whoever of the dead departed you allow to approach the blood will speak to you indeed: but whoever you deny will draw back. _

 

It is an interesting idea and one I am curious to try in application. Surely in her old apartment, with her twin present, Athena's energy has to be at its strongest here.

 

Necromancy is a Greek word, from the classical Greek nekyia—a form of magic in which the practitioner summons a ghost, or raises someone bodily for the purpose of divination. I know a little on the matter—something about talismans, bells, magic circles and incantations…and in my case possibly blood.

 

At this point, I can only hope that being so tightly linked to Athena can make up for any artlessness in my practice. And I also hope that Eli won't come looking for me for at least five minutes. I get out a cup, a saltshaker and the sharpest knife I can find.

 

_ It is like having my stomach turned inside out and my head dunked in ice water at the same time. I would scream if there was any air in my lungs. _

 

_ ### _

 

"What the fuck are you doing in here, cooking brunch?" The sound echoes from a distance, and it takes me a moment to realize it's Eli. I am so far away now in this cold, dark place it's disorienting to be able to hear him. "What did you do? You son of a bitch!"

 

"I couldn't agree more," Athena says flatly. She's sitting on an outcropping of black rocks, smoking one of my cigarettes, her expression bleak. "You're fucking risking everything pulling a stunt like this."

I shrug, slumped over awkwardly against a wall and too exhausted to care.

 

"Am I dead then? Is this it?"

 

She laughs, her teeth stained reddish pink. Good, my offering worked then. "How should I know dumbass? Grams was the necromancer. Clearly we should have paid better attention to the details."

 

"Clearly."

 

There is a hiss as the air sizzles and snaps and then the sound of Eli swearing, the salt circle I made, he must be trying to pass through it.

 

"Jack! Jack. Oh fuck no, please. Fuck fuck fuck. If you're dead I'm going to bring you back so I can kill you myself."

 

Athena looks vaguely amused. "Your fellow seems nice enough. What's his name?"

 

"Uh Eli. He's fine, I guess. I don't exactly trust him, but suppose I distrust him the least of anyone lately."

 

"Cynic. Well I like him. You know we had a few of his kind in our family line."

 

"What are you talking about?"

 

"Sometimes," she tells me, snubbing out her smoke and standing up, "I think you are intentionally obtuse. It's in the book, the one under the loose floorboard."

 

My heart rate quickens. The  _ book. Right. I'm here for the book _ . "Which floorboard? Athena I have to find it. I need to try to break the curse."

 

"Yeah duh, Jax. Do ya think? Go to the office and look under the window. But be careful. It's more dangerous than I realized."

 

###

 

"Ajax please." Eli's voice is strained and rough as he shakes me by the shoulders.

 

My eyes fly open and I let in a sudden labored breath, my vision blurred. "Eli?" My throat is painfully raw, and I wince at the effort to speak. The air has the metallic tang scent of blood.

 

Eli's face is so close to mine I can feel his breath as he speaks. "God damn it Ajax. I told you not to do shit like this.  _ I told you _ . You weren't breathing when I found you and since when do you know how to make salt wards?"

 

I blink and look up into his deep blue eyes. I'm so weak that if he let's go now I'd probably hit the back of my head on the floor. "It's in the office, under the window," I say, barely a whisper. Eli's face suddenly twists from concern to something full of panic and anger.

 

"You know what? Fuck you, Ajax. I'm so out of here." He lets go, and I fall onto my back, making a whimpering sound of protest as he leaves the room.

 

###

 

Eli is waiting by the car when I finally come out of the apartment, locking the door knob behind me. I shuffle forward unsteadily with my empty coffee cup in one hand and a small leather bound book in the other.

 

"Don't come too close to me," Eli warns. "I'm inclined to knock your teeth out right now. Open the damn door so I can get my shit."

 

"What?" I ask. "I don't understand. I was kind of hoping you could drive."

 

"Look," he says without meeting my eyes. "That was some fucked up shit back there. I'm not going to stick around and watch you die, you crazy bastard. At least one of us has some sense of self-preservation."

 

I feel like the ground is being yanked out from under me all over again. "I'm sorry. I didn't do it to piss you off, you know. Besides, don't you need a ride back to San Francisco?" I unlock the car and then watch Eli gather up his stuff.

 

"Hey, you're a good time, but not that good. Meh I don't know. Maybe I'll just chase around some skater boys and wannabe models for awhile." He looks as upset as I've ever seen him, his body vibrating with tension.

 

_ What the fuck? _ "Fine," I say stiffly. "Whatever you need to do, Eli."

 

"Just stay the fuck away from me, Ajax, or I swear I'll make you sorry."

 

"Yeah I get it," I tell him. "You don't need to be all dramatic about it." Eli gives a humorless laugh, flips me the bird, throws his bag over his shoulder, and, with that, he turns and is gone.

 

###

 

*Quote from Homer: The Odyssey, Book XI

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blueghostghost.tumblr.com


	8. The Van Helsing Society

I wonder if this was always my destiny, to be up at two in the morning drinking my eighth cup of coffee with a Greek/English dictionary in one hand and a crumbling spell book in the other. I'm pretty sure, in any case, that this is the exact lifestyle I have been so carefully avoiding all of these years. At least I am back to the books. The scholar in me has always preferred theory over practice, and honestly I haven't fully recovered from what happened in Athena's old apartment. I'm still sort of sore and jangled in a spiritual sense.

Dying had been…unpleasant. Knowing what I know now, nothing could compel me to willingly do it again—not even to fucking unlock the mysteries of the universe. In a way, I'm almost grateful that Eli acted like such an asshole because at the time it took away the option of completely falling apart. Once I start doing that, I'm not sure I'll be able stop. But now I have the book and that means I have work to do, the kind of work I understand. My finger traces over the yellowing page. Whoever wrote this section had unreasonably small handwriting. So far the information has been surprisingly random. Well, maybe it shouldn't be so surprising considering how many generations had maintained it.

It presents its knowledge not by subject, but chronologically, as each writer had the experience or collected the data. This particular book had most likely been copied from a much older text, or possibly several, considering the first half is written in the same (small) hand.

The majority of the writing is in Modern Greek, but the earliest pages contain a number of broken sections whose strange syntax made me suspect it was some form of Byzantine Greek—a stage in the language that fell out of favor at the end of the Middle Ages. I puzzle through it for a little bit, wondering about the prudence of taking scans of these pages to someone who knows more about such things.

What is bothering me now, what has been in the back of my mind from the beginning, in fact, is this: why had Athena hidden the book in the first place? After all, our grandmother had kept it in the kitchen where she performed most of her spells, so what was it doing crammed into the floorboards on the day that she died? What was she so afraid of? Whatever it is I have a strong suspicion Katharina knows more than she's letting on. For the millionth time I feel a pang of regret over how things ended with Eli, that it had been so abrupt and hostile. It's weird because I am really not the type to get attached to people right away and I can't even say we were really friends…

Shaking my head, I put these unsettling thoughts aside, and I begin the arduous task of translating and categorizing the rest of the pages into folders on my laptop in password protected files, creating sections for family history, fables, and various categories of spells.

I am particularly attracted to any protection spells against monsters of any kind as I am pretty sure there is no such thing as too many of these, and really I cannot get them translated fast enough.However, at some point, rather than make me feel safer, the sheer number of things from which one could be protected makes me a little nauseous. I wonder if by the time I finish this project I will ever want to leave the house again. What on earth had my crazy ancestors been up to to run across all this shit anyway?

 

###

 

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" The skinny guy in the strange white uniform and goggles jumps when I walk up behind him. I continue, "You've been standing under my window, in the dark, for the past hour. It's creepy." The man peers at me, looking like some kind of big strange insect as he adjusts his goggles several times, as if trying to bring me into focus. No burn smell. So if this got any weirder—and really why wouldn't it? —it wouldn't be  _ that _ kind of weird. I have half a mind to try out my new stun spell on the creep anyway.

"Oh, um, Mr. Ioannis?" The guy pushes up his goggles so that they rest on top of his head, making his hair spike up in odd directions. There are red marks around his eyes and across the bridge of his nose. "I was just taking a reading of your apartment. Are you aware that there has been a spike in paranormal activity in your residence?"

_ What in the fuck? _ I cross my arms and stare at him wordlessly for a moment before answering. "You know, now that you mention it, there have been some strange things going on lately."

"Oh yes, go on," he says eagerly, taking out a small black notebook and pen.

"Yeah, for example there's this freak in some kind of ghost busters outfit staring at my bedroom window."

The man stops writing halfway through my sentence and flushes. "Yes, but, well it's for your own protection, especially considering what happened to your sister."

"What did you say?" I demand. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

"Ah I apologize. I don't normally talk to subjects…"

"Subjects? Subjects of what?" I ask, growing more alarmed. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, please. There is really no reason to get upset." He fishes around in his coat pocket and hands me a grey business card that reads in ornate purple script:

Archibald Rex,

Investigator 2nd Class

Van Helsing Society

I frown. "I don't get it. What does this have to do with my sister, or me for that matter? What are you trying to do?"

"Oh no. We don't do. We observe," he says, his voice suddenly portentous.

I blink. Oh Jesus. Another person who thinks they're playing a supernatural version of Clue. 

"Archie, look," I say, my voice flat, almost bored. I’m just too exhausted at this point to give this the energy it deserves. "If you know something about what happened to my sister I'd appreciate you just saying so. It's been a rough couple of weeks and I don't want to play games with you Van Helsing people too."

Archibald looks flustered. "Um yes, your sister. We have a file on her. We don't have a file on you because we hadn't realized you were, well you know…" He pulls back down the goggles adjusting them again. "Oh yes, but I can see now that you have a very strong energy profile. I will, of course, start paperwork on you as soon as I get back to the office."

"No…don't start…wait, you have a file on Athena? Can I see it?"

"No, that's classified."

"What? Then why would you just tell me you have a file on my sister if I can't read it? Shit. Would you stop that? The glasses thing, it's really distracting."

"Oh sorry." He removes them again, his hair faring no better than the last time. "I could file a petition to have the Lower Council meet about holding a vote of the High Council to allow you to look at the file."

"Excuse me?" Archibald takes in a deep breath as if he intends to repeat himself. "You know what," I cut him off. "Never mind, yeah file the whatever it is. How long will that take?"

"Oh," he muses. "You're a blood relative so it should be a pretty straight forward. Maybe six months?"

"Six months? That's ridiculous."

"Oh dear." He scratches his nose thoughtfully. "I was being a bit optimistic."

"Archie, you seem like a nice guy so I'm going to level with you. I don't think I have six months. I need answers now. Look, does this Van Helsing Society actually do anything, I mean other than the peeping tom ghost buster routine? You said it was for my protection. How are you going to protect me?"

Archibald looks cheerful again. "Well, for starters, I'd like to get your household's PNR down."

"Our what?"

"Your paranormal reading. I really haven't seen such a bad case in my experience. You've got a lot of infestations." He tsks at this, as if somehow it is my carelessness that brought us to this point.

"Well," I say defensively. "I'm certainly not thrilled about my uh PNR either. I can't ever find my keys and there's something with tentacles in the pipes..."

Archibald is writing now. "Uh-huh. These tentacles…is there a lot of slime?" he asks intently.

"Sometimes."

"A burning smell and flashing lights?"

"Uh no not really. There's a smell but it's more like a…"

"An unusual swampy odor?"

"Oh yeah. Totally." I nod. "It's pretty foul. Wait how did you…"

"Mmm, spawn of Ekhidna, I think. They are very common, especially in San Francisco in the summer," he diagnoses. "I'll have to file some forms, but I think we can help you with that. Low grade creatures are a lot easier to get clearance for decommissioning."

"Okay. I'm not going to say no. It's a real pain in the ass, but what do you mean decommission? Like kill? And, uh, low grade creatures as opposed to…?

"Oh well we use the Reginald Scale of course," he tells me, as if this fucking clarifies everything. "RS for short."

"Um, you're going to have to tell me what that is."

Archibald actually looks surprised. "Oh okay, well it's a scale between one and ten with a one being something like a flesh eating mold."

"And a ten?" I prompt.

"Oh, that would be something intelligent and high functioning, like a demon or a vampire."

"So," I say slowly, feeling a sick, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Let me get this straight, if I'm getting a file does that mean I'm also getting a number on this Reginald Scale?"

Archibald frowns. "Well, I suppose so."

"And say someone wants to decommission me?"

"Oh well, don't worry about that. You'd have to be a very serious threat for that to happen."

"Mmm. Go with me on this one, Archie. Let's just say for argument's sake, I become a very serious threat. Who gets to decide that? What are my rights in this decommissioning process? Do I get a representative? Is there a trial?"

"Umm."

"I'm going to need to talk to someone about this. Immediately. I am very, very concerned about these files, about this whole damn situation actually. And Archibald? Look, I appreciate your concern—I think—but you just showing up and looking in my windows, it doesn't really work for me. Maybe from now on you could call first, before you come over and do readings or whatever. Please, let me give you my number."

"Yeah, okay," he says hesitantly.

"And another thing. Whatever you do, do not talk to my roommate.  _ Like ever _ ."

 

###

 

"This is the third shift of yours that Eli hasn't shown up to," Poppy observes as she puts away clean glasses. "What's going on dude?"

"Nothing," I tell her. "He probably got bored and found someone else to harass."

"Yep. Which would totally explain your terrible mood lately. Did you guys have a fight?"

"No," I say. "Stop being so nosy."

"Was the sex bad or something?"

I do my best to look thoroughly offended. "What? Since when do I hook up with the customers?"

Poppy snorts. "Since when did that man ever pay for a drink?"

 

###

 

"Look, all I'm saying, Mr. Ioannis, is that we have a certain way of doing things. We are an organization that deals with very sensitive cases and we have a certain protocol we have to follow. It's for everyone's protection. To be frank, Mr. Rex hadn't even filled out the necessary documents before informing you of our existence."

I am in the Van Helsing Society's San Francisco office talking to a grey haired British man who has introduced himself as Theodore Fox. From the street, the building looks like a jumbled and dusty antique store, but go through the back doors and it is all dark walls and leather office furniture with oak desks.

"I have not been all that impressed with your way of doing things thus far, actually," I challenge. "A total lack of transparency? Running surveillance on people without their knowledge? And who the fuck gave you the authority to dole out capital punishment?"

"We are a very old organization. Our rules and procedures were developed for very good reasons."

"Alright, fine. Give me your reasons for not helping me. I'm telling you something is really wrong with me and it's going to get me eaten by monsters or sucked into the world of the dead, unless I figure out how to make it stop and you're just sitting there telling me you don't care."

"Oh, that's really interesting." Mr. Fox's face brightens, and he pulls out a pen and notebook. "Can you describe your experiences in more detail?"

"No way! I don't need a fucking record of the events leading up to my death, I need help preventing it! Show me Athena's file."

"I'm sorry, but that just isn't possible and I really don't think that kind of language is necessary."

"Fine." I stand up. "But this whole thing is totally unacceptable, and don't think for a moment I'm going to let it drop." I turn to leave.

"Oh one more thing before you go." Mr. Fox clears his throat. "Your sister, did she by any chance keep a book of spells?"

I freeze, willing my face blank. "No," I say lightly, "not that I'm aware of. Why do you ask?"

"Oh well." Mr. Fox gives me a smooth smile. "I'm sorry to hear you say that. Good day Mr. Ioannis."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blueghostghost.tumblr.com is my writing blog, come say hi!


	9. wolf at the door

_ The Van Helsing Society. _ Something about them stirs up all my natural distrust and outrage. They are clearly taking advantage of a demographic that is estranged from the rest of the world and is vulnerable to their fucked up tactics because they are a minority.  _ It really pisses me off, and it needs to stop. _ I haven't spent my entire life obsessed with civil liberties only to roll over when confronted with an abuse of authority. God, if I wasn't worried about being committed and/or fired I would be tempted to bring this situation to my ACLU district manager.

 

But the real question, I think as I eat my my corndog at the kitchen table, is why are they monitoring people in the first place? What is their agenda? And then there is that thing Mr. Fox said about Athena's spell book.

 

I don't like it. Not even a little bit. Well if they are going to keep a file on me, the very least I can do is return the favor. It’s like some kind of  _ super _ cop watch. I need to find other people—or whatever, supernatural beings anyway. I need records of others experiences to get a better picture of the whole situation. I need to learn as much about them as they seem to know about Athena and me. I get up to get a beer from the fridge, but instead end up resting my forehead on the cool surface of the freezer with a sigh. I'm so tired. When did my world go insane?

 

"Hey, what's up with you?" Sarah asks.

 

"Oh, nothing." I lift my head. "I was just getting a beer and I decided to have a mini life crisis before opening the fridge."

 

"Cool. Any particular reason?"

 

"No. Nothing special. How are you doing?"

 

"Oh, it's going okay—better than last week when Larry's brother and mom were in town. That shit was out of control. And you know what? I don't really even like those damn trolley cars or Fisherman's Wharf. It's really crowded and kind of boring, and then I threw up on the boat ride out to Alcatraz."

 

I laugh. It's dickish, but I can't help it.

 

"Oh, you think it's sooo funny now…"

 

"I'm sorry, Sarah. But seriously? You yacked on the ferry?"

 

She starts to fill a pot with water and then looks over her shoulder and smiles. "You think you're all safe in your shallow SF lifestyle…but it's going to happen to you too, mister. One minute it's all casual hand jobs and tequila shots at the club and then the next thing you know you're making small talk with his mom about her Wedgwood china collection. Pure torture man."

 

I laugh again. "I don't think that's the path I've been headed down recently."

 

"Yeah." Sarah nodded. "That's what I thought."

 

###

 

There is the lightning crack sound of breaking glass and then the soft tinkling, like ringing bells, as it spreads across the floor. I jolt up in bed, my brain chanting a steady stream of  _ oh shit, oh shit, oh shit _ as a burning caustic smell fills the air like a fine smoke.

 

If something like this had happened two months ago, my imagination would have failed me miserably, but not now. Now, my mental list of what could be happening is incredibly detailed and far too long. My stomach clenches.  _ Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.  _ I am going to die. They are going to find what is left of my entrails hanging from the ceiling fan in the morning and I'll never even get to know  _ why _ .

 

Something is moving across the floor in the darkness, something big, something that is snapping and growling, making terrifying guttural sounds as it crunches across the glass. I remind myself to breathe, say a prayer in Greek, and flip on the bedside lamp. The thing lifts its head and gives me a sharp look, before returning to its motions.

 

"Alright, alright," I say to myself. "It's a giant wolf. My room is on the second floor, but fuck it. I call it like I see it, and that's a wolf." I watch the massive gray form pace in quick jerking turns, its shoulder blades flexing under a thick coat of fur. I've never seen a wolf this close before, never in person at all actually, but by all possible indications this is an unhappy one, hackles up and its ears flat against its head as it makes snarling, complaining sounds as it sniffs at the ground.

I study the long snout and dark ringed eyes for a moment, listening to the animalistic noises filling my bedroom. Okay, I haven't  _ exactly _ prepared for this particular situation—who would?—but I should be able to improvise shouldn't I?

 

_ I can deal with this. I can deal with this. I can deal with this. _

 

I reach under the bed and haul up the wooden box I've been filling with supplies from Chinese medicine shops and the internet over the past month. "You need to calm down," I say in the wolf's general direction, my fingers flipping rapidly through my collection of neatly organized vials and brown paper packages. I glance up to note the progress of my uninvited visitor from time to time.

 

He's still pacing, weaving back and forth like a caged animal. "Stop that," I say. "You're going to cut your feet up on that glass." He chuffs back and keeps doing it and I find myself rolling my eyes. "Be stubborn if you want, but you'll regret it."

 

Okay, so wolf plus magic probably equals some sort of Lycanthropic condition—and from what I read about that it's a state in which the subject is often violent and unpredictable. First things first then, I'll have to try to sedate my new house pet, preferably without getting my throat ripped out in the process. With this goal in mind, I open a small envelope filled with leaves of dried Aconitum, otherwise known as monkshood or sometimes called wolfsbane. I'd prefer to brew the Aconitum in hot water first, but under the circumstances I'll have to improvise.

I crush the pungent leaves between my fingers, submerging them slowly into the glass of water next to my bed. I add a liberal amount of lavender oil. 

 

"Sorry, you're not going to like this very much, but we don't have a lot of options," I explain out loud. I slip from bed cautiously, balancing the mixture in one hand as I move slowly across the floor, dressed only in my boxers, trying to avoid bits of glass glittering in the light of the goddamn full moon shining through my broken window. 

 

"Shhh," I coax, my empty hand up, fingers splayed in a gesture of goodwill. "Hey boy, it's okay, good boy, don't eat me." The creature looks up, giving me a warning snarl that makes me pause.  _ This is so fucking unfair. _ Why does this shit happen to me? How is it that someone who just wants to finish law school and help people ends up trying to drug a werewolf in his bedroom in the middle of the night? In one swift motion I dash forward splashing the liquid across the eyes and snout. It gives a startled yelp, retreating backwards, suddenly unsure on its feet.

 

"I'm sorry," I say, "but that should help you calm down. How did you get up here anyway?" I take a few more experimental steps forward, strangely compelled. Against all logic, I want to touch him, to run fingers through that coarse fur. It's not altogether an animal is it? Can he understand me? "Hey, are you okay?" I whisper.

 

The wolf gives a low whine and collapses onto its side.  _ Oh shit. _ I'd added more wolfsbane to compensate for not being able to actually brew the leaves. Did I overdose him? I rush forward without thinking and kneel beside the creature. God, what if I killed it? I run a hand across the fur belly and sharply defined rib cage. I can feel a steady heartbeat and the breathing is slow, but not labored. I've never seen an animal like this before—wild and exotic looking, almost beautiful.

 

"I kind of freaked out and doubled the dosage," I explain. My fingers trace over a pointed ear as startlingly blue eyes watch me. Okay, okay, this was going to be fine. I just need to think this through. First, there is a wolf in my room. Well no, it was a werewolf considering how it had reacted to my concoction. So, there is a werewolf in my bedroom, which means it is actually a man…or woman of course—a person—one that I am going to have to deal with by morning. Yeah that is a little too weird to think about right now.

 

"I should clean up all this glass," I say, suddenly standing up. "You just hang out right there. The wolfsbane will wear off in a few hours."

 

###

 

Eli makes a hissing sound and grits his teeth, practically writhing on the floor. "Fuck," he mumbles, eyes screwed shut.

 

"Do you want some coffee?" I ask, crouching next to his head.

 

"What are you doing here, Ajax," he moans. "I thought I said I'd fucking kill you if you came round again."

 

"Oh ho ho. Well you're on  _ my  _ bedroom floor. Riddle me that, batman."

 

"Fuck. Fuck  _ everything _ ."

"I kind of dosed you with a shit ton of wolfsbane. I called Katharina and she said you'd be fine, just really cranky when you woke up."

 

Eli's eyes fly open. "Oh God. Jack, are you okay?" He sounds suddenly panicked.

 

I shrug. "Yeah, I'm fine. I mean I don't have a window anymore but I wasn't really using it anyway. Don't even worry about it."

 

"Shut up. Be serious for a minute. Were you bitten?"

 

"What? No way." It's embarrassing how happy I am that it's Eli that busted into my place last night. I'm still mad about LA but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate the scenery. I run a hand over his bruised, naked skin and make a concerned noise. "Have you been exposed to wolfsbane before? Katharina said sensitivity varies and she didn't know how sensitive you were."

 

"Oh man, this gets better and better. Whatever. I'm a little sick, I might throw up, but I'll live." he blinks. "Holy shit, there are some fucked up people in Fresno."

 

I frown. "Fresno? When were you in Fresno?"

 

"I don't know, yesterday, the day before that maybe. Did you really have to call Kat? I am never going to live this one down. Are you sure she knows it was me?"

 

"Well she thought it was probably you. She also said that there aren't very many werewolves in San Francisco, and that they tend to, uh, spread out and based on my description she highly doubted another alpha male would be coming up into your territory like that—even if you were out of town for a few days—your territory?  _ Really _ Eli? What do you do, pee on lamp posts and shit?"

 

"Shut up. Don't judge my culture. She told you all that huh?"

 

"Yeah. Between bouts of laughter."

 

Eli shifts, letting out a sharp hissing sound of pain. "Here, move up onto the bed," I say. "I'll get you some coffee and a couple of aspirin."

 

"Mmm." He nods slowly, reaching out and catching my hand. "Jack, look, Jack I…"

 

"Fuck you Eli," I say, pulling my hand back and standing up. "Anything you have to say to me about what happened in LA, you'd better save until you don't look so pitiful. I refuse to be swayed by your sorry looking ass."

 

God what the hell is wrong with me? I feel like I'm losing my mind when it comes to this man. I go downstairs and pour two cups of coffee and grab the bottle of painkillers. When I get back, Eli is still on the floor and has an arm draped across his eyes. "Do you want to lie in the bed?"

 

"No," he mumbles. "It hurts too much to move."

 

"Really?"

 

"Yes really," Eli snaps grumpily. "This little condition of mine is not a good time. It hurts like a motherfucker. That and I do stupid shit like almost bite people and jump through windows."

 

"But how can you..." I set the coffee down on the bedside table and picked up a notepad and pencil. I can copy this into the family book later.

 

"I don't usually slip up this bad. I usually try to find somewhere isolated, somewhere I can just be alone."

 

"Can you feel it happening?"

 

"What? Hell yes, I can feel it happening."

 

I nod. "And what does it feel like?"

 

"Not good."

 

"Yeah but…" I began, but Eli cuts me off.

 

"Jack, look, I'll answer your questions, I will, but can you fucking give it a rest for a second? I'm kind of naked and dying right now."

 

"Sorry." I put down the pen and paper and bring over the coffee, a blanket and a pillow. "I sound like the damn Van Helsing Society. Here, lift your head for a second." I cover him with the blanket and shove the pillow under his neck.

 

Eli snorts. "So you met those goggle freaks huh?" He looks exhausted and in need of a shower but decidedly more comfortable.

 

"You know who they are? Oh don't get me started," I say, settling down next him on the floor and drawing up my knee so I can rest my chin there. "I'm not convinced they don't have something to do with Athena's death. It doesn't help that they have these files on her, the ones that they won't let me see for some reason. That isn't the only fucked up thing about how they operate, either. I went to their office and Mr. Fox said…what's so funny?"

 

Eli laughs until it makes him wince. "I don't get you at all, Potter. Something tries to suck your soul out of your body, you momentarily die during a botched necromancy spell, and the dude you were fucking jumps through your window in a wolf suit. But what do you decide to get your panties in a bunch over? What royally pisses you off? A bunch of goggle wearing, pencil pushing, Illuminati wannabes! Ha! Doing what exactly? Writing shit down about you? I don't know if you know this, but having your sensibilities offended isn't fatal."

 

"It's not funny Eli! They kill people. I know they do. Archibald called it  _ decommissioning _ ."

 

"Morons who don't know how to handle themselves maybe and that is a big  _ maybe _ . I've never heard of it actually happening to anyone."

 

"I'm just saying I don't want to live in a world where some secret organization is judge, jury and executioner."

 

"Well you do, sweetheart. And they aren't the force you're making them out to be. Things are pretty lawless most of the time. It's more the Good the Bad and the Ugly than The Godfather around here."

 

"I don't care. I don't like it and I'm going to do something about it."

 

Eli raises an eyebrow. "Oh really? What exactly did you have in mind?"

 

"I don't know yet. I'm still in the research stage. Also, I'm still cursed, have a full time internship, and a bartending job, so it isn't something I can devote my full attention to yet. Oh, and I have to get my window fixed because some asshole werewolf jumped through it last night."

 

Eli sits up a little and takes the cup of coffee with shaky hands. "Sorry man, I wish I could tell you what the hell I was thinking."

 

"Can you remember what happens after you turn?"

 

"Not really. Just flashes, like snapshots. Nothing good happens, I can tell you that much."

 

"Lycanthropy, it's a Greek term. Did you know that?"

 

"No, but it fucking figures."

 

"Mmm. There was a myth my grandmother used to tell me about Lycaon the King of Arcadia. Have you heard it?"

 

"I can't say I have."

 

"Do you want to?"

 

"Sure, go for it. I don't think it will be nearly as fun as hearing your thoughts on the  _ Iliad _ , but what the hell."

 

My belly heats at the memory, but I ignore it. "Okay so, King Lycaon was a cruel ruler with no respect for the gods. So Zeus—he's the king of all of the gods—disguises himself as a traveler to go check out all the rumors. Zeus enters the palace, but King Lycaon is no dummy. He figures out that this isn't any ordinary traveler. This is Zeus himself.

 

So Lycaon arranges a banquet for the stranger and then he slaughters a child and has it cooked up into the dishes. I guess if the god eats human flesh it will kill him or something like that. But when Zeus comes to the meal he knows what the King has done and he flips over the table and kills all of his sons with lightning bolts."

 

"And why did your grandmother think this was a good bedtime story?" Eli asks. "Oh wait this totally ties into my theory about your people's love of suffering and tragedy."

 

"Shh, listen. It gets better. King Lycaon fled into the forest, but Zeus cursed him. He kept his wicked bloodthirsty nature and cruel eyes, but his body was turned into that of a wolf. He spent the rest of his days killing village sheep or whatever."

 

"Thank you for that. That's exactly what a man wants to hear when he's balled on the floor in agony, after a night of Lycanthropic delights, that it's his own damn fault."

 

"I didn't mean it like that. Jesus. I just thought it was interesting. It suggests that the condition has been around for a very long time. There were notes in my family's book going back pretty far too."

 

"Fascinating."

 

"Jerk."

 

"Was it worth it? I mean, is the book helping at all?"

 

"I knocked your ass out didn't I?"

 

He chuckled. "Yeah I guess you did at that, Potter. Well hey man, that's a start in any case."

 

"Look Eli…" I brush a loose strand of hair from his eyes without thinking. "What I gave you last night was a pretty primitive concoction. But I had this like great great uncle who I think had a similar thing going on. Based on the notes I've been reading it's possible I might be able to make you something that could make transitions a little more comfortable."

 

"Nuh-uh. Jericho already tried that. It was a fucking disaster."

 

"Well, yeah you kinda have to tweak the formula until you find something that works…Wait.  _ Who the hell is Jericho _ ?"

 

"Just this guy I know."

 

"A guy you know?" I demand. "A guy that does magic? You mean a wizard?"

 

"Yeah he's pretty wizardy. You jealous or something? Don't ask me if he's better at spells than you, baby…" Eli waggles his eyebrows at me. "Because he totally is."

 

I smack his arm. "You know a wizard and you didn't think he might be able to help me?"

 

"Ow." Eli rubs at the spot where my hand connected. "Sure Jerry might be able to help and he might not. He's been around awhile dude. He's well connected and cranky as fuck and you might wanna be a little bit careful before you go ahead and put yourself on that one's radar.

Oh and he hates my guts. So yeah. Actually, pretty much as a rule you probably shouldn't drop my name when you're meeting new people."

 

###

 

"I have a pair of Sarah's boyfriend's old sweat pants and burritos! Mmm lunch." Eli has finally gotten up and moved to the bed, and I sit down on the half he's not using.  _ Dare I admit I'm happy to see him there? _

 

"Fuck. You don't have to do this stuff. I'm not helpless," Eli grumbles, not meeting my eyes.

 

"Yeah I know. You're right. What do you need pants for in my bed anyway?" Eli tries not to smile, the corners of his mouth twitching. I grin back and lean in. At first the kiss is hesitant, unsure, then I'm being urged forward, yanked up, until I'm half on top of Eli with the blankets between us, his tongue in my mouth and my fingers sinking into his hair. He tastes like coffee, bitter and good. I pull back, then bury my nose in the crook of his neck and breathe in his rich male smell.

What is this thing between us? Why can't I help myself?

 

Eli's fingers are playing with the hem of my jeans, tickling and making me squirm. "What happened to all your stuff anyway?" I ask, kissing his exposed shoulder.

 

"Hmm. Probably in a locker at a greyhound bus station somewhere. That shit's gone for good, man. It's okay though. Most of my worldly possessions are in a self-store in the Mission. I won't have to completely rebuild this go round."

 

"Oh." I frown and brush the hair from his eyes. "So you don't have an apartment or anything like that? No place to stay?"

 

Eli stiffens under me, suddenly looking defensive. "Does it matter?"

 

I blink in surprise. "No.  _ Of course not. _ I was just kind of curious."

 

And just like that his demeanor turns icy and defensive. "Oh come on Jack. You don't want to know the answer to a question like that," he spits, voice surprisingly harsh. I roll off of him.

 

"What the…"

 

"Look at you. You're a nice boy. Look at your nice clean room with all your law books. You're a good little worker bee, always trying to make the world a better place."

 

I frown. "Now look…"

 

"The universe turned upside down and backwards on you and you didn't get mad or whine about it. You just rolled up your sleeves and started trying to work it out. You're fun to pretend with Jack, but let's not act like you really want to know anything about me, really. Haven't you figured out by now that I'm a monster?"

 

My face feels hot. "Ouch."

 

"Yeah well, I haven't had a cigarette in like eighteen hours."

 

I stand up, gathering together what's left of my shredded dignity. "Well you can go to hell, Eli. I never asked you to be my boyfriend, so you can just chill the fuck out, and stop trying to prove to me why you're all wrong for the job. As if that was ever going to happen in the first place. You're right, I probably am too good for you." Eli looks like I just slapped him, but I refuse to care. "Enjoy your fucking burrito."

 

I let the door slam on my way out.

 

###

 

_ Fucking Eli _ . I light my fourth cigarette, going nowhere in particular. Just walking. It wasn't like I didn't have plenty of experience jumping into bed with assholes. So whatever. And normally if someone had taken all the things I depend on myself for: hard work, patience, compassion and thrown them in my face like Eli just did I would have written it off as just that fuck-head's own insecurities, their problem. But I'm not myself today. I'm too tired and raw, and those words had cut.

 

Maybe it's crazy, but Eli had made me feel safe. We hadn't seen each other in three weeks, and I had been immediately reminded of how much I physically relax when he's around, how nice it is to have someone I can talk to, and how attracted I am to that stupid man's body.

 

Against all logic, seeing Eli as a wolf had been sort of relieving, scary as hell but not as scary as my imagination might conjure. It really hadn't been  _ that  _ bad, and for a moment, it had felt oddly intimate. I stamp out my smoke and swear under my breath.

 

_ Stupid goddamn werewolf. _

 

When I finally get home, Eli is gone. I had expected as much, but it still feels like a physical blow to the chest. I take off my shoes and crawl into the bed, feeling for the first time in my life a real sense of despair. I can still smell Eli's faint pine and clove scent on the sheets. I am so tired of being alone, and I miss Athena. I let out a stupid sob, my body suddenly feeling too small to carry so much grief. It comes over me in horrible, painful waves as my fingers fist in the blankets and tears roll down my cheeks.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long to get this chapter edited, I've been scrambling to finish some other writing things, but here it is! Blueghostghost.tumblr.com is my writer blog. Come say hi!


	10. jailer of the wind

"Thank you," I say as I take the cup of tea from Mr. Fox.

 

"I can tell you are very concerned about this, Mr. Ioannis."

 

"Really? What about the fact that I've been arguing with you for the past two hours should give me that impression?"

 

The man blinks at me blankly from behind his desk. "You are obviously a very passionate young man and this is a personal matter for you. I appreciate that, but I simply can not show you Miss Athena Ioannis' file."

 

"See, that's the thing," I say. "It's not her file. It's your file—a file you kept on my sister. There's a difference. Just what are you trying to protect here?"

 

Mr. Fox gives a thin smile. "We are trying to protect all parties involved."

 

"But Archibald told me that there was a form that could be filed?"

 

"The X-576.6 has already been filed, and the request was denied. This conversation is the end result of that process"

 

I frown, pressing my fingers to my eyelids. "Look, I am not trying to threaten you, but I feel that when systems give no recourse to the people they affect, active resistance becomes necessary."

 

"Meaning?”

 

"That if you don't let me look at that file, I will make a nuisance of myself."

 

Mr. Fox lets out a low laugh. "My dear boy, you are already making a nuisance of yourself. I'm a very busy man." As he speaks, I catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of Archibald returning to his desk.

 

"Well fine then." I smile, setting the tea down on Mr. Fox's desk with enough force to slosh some over the side. "I think it's sort of pointless to keep talking right now anyway. But I will be back."

 

"I have no doubt of that." Mr. Fox gives a resigned sigh. "Good day, Mr. Ioannis."

 

I leave Mr. Fox's office and begin to walk towards the door, making a sudden sharp left as I approach where Archibald is seated.

 

"Archie," I chime, making the young man jump.

 

"Oh, Mr. Ioannis, you startled me."

 

"Please, call me Ajax. I wanted to thank you."

 

"Huh? What for?" Archibald sounds suspicious.

 

"Well, I think I finally got that whole tentacle issue thing all cleared up. What you said about the spawn of Ekhidna kind of made it click and I found a spell that seems pretty effective. I won't be needing you to send anyone out to the house after all."

 

"Well that's good news," Archibald says, seeming to relax a little. "I'm sorry, I heard that the X-576.6 request was declined. My condolences."

 

I wave my hand dismissively. "Yeah, it sucks. Look, I wanted to ask you something that has been bugging me." Archibald opens his mouth, but I keep talking, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "Just hear me out here, Archie. You know how you said the paranormal activity is way up at my house? That's just the beginning as far as the things I've been dealing with. I think it's a curse. You've seen Athena's file right?"

 

Archibald nods, looking a little pale.

 

"Don't worry, Archie, you don't have to answer me right now, but I just want you to think on this—is there anything in that file that would explain what the  _ fuck _ is going on with me? If something pops into that little goggled head of yours give me a call, okay?"

 

"Okay." Archibald gulps.

 

"Thanks, man." I give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Appreciated."

 

###

 

An Internet search on the Van Helsing Society results in nothing worth looking into. Outside the reference to the Dutch doctor from Bram Stoker's Dracula, I'm at a loss to the meaning. On a return excursion to the Berkeley library I pick up some books on the Rosicrucians—a 17th century German secret society that may or may not have existed at all—and I get what I can find on the Bavarian Illuminati, an organization founded during the Enlightenment that bare at least a surface resemblance to the VHS.

 

In a quiet corner of the main library, I shove my bag under a desk and pull out the card Archibald gave me. I run my fingers over the text with a sigh. I flip it over and stare at the blank grey paper in thought. There must be a way to find out more about these people.

 

"May I?" The voice is soft and unassuming but it still makes me shiver like a cold breeze moving across my neck. The kid would pass for one of the gutter punks that panhandles down on Telegraph Avenue, torn dirty clothes, black matted hair, if he didn't smell faintly of magic and have eyes so yellow they practically glow. I am immediately given the impression of a frightened alley cat.

 

"May you what?" I ask still trying to figure out how he managed to creep up behind me like that. "Who the hell are you?"

 

He smiles faintly reaching out and taking the card from my fingers. "The Van Helsings really do lack imagination." He taps the edge of the paper against the surface of the desk. "See?"  _ Wait, what was that? _ Was there a flash of an image across the back of the card? I lean over the paper, watching with more concentration.

 

"What did you just do?" There had been a few spells in my family book for concealing writing. Is that the case here?

 

"Nothing, really. I just told you, no imagination. Now watch." He hits the edge of the card against the desk with a little more force and this time it takes a minute for the image to fade: four winged heads, their cheeks puffed out as curls of air pour from their mouths. Below it what looks like a Latin phrase.

  
  


"Et clauso ventorum carcere regent," the boy reads carefully. "Virgil's  _ Aeneid _ .  _ There let him reign, the jailer of the wind _ . Such arrogance it's almost breathtaking isn't it?" His eyes seem to glow brighter, his skin so pale he almost appears otherworldly, even in the harsh library lighting.

 

"Whose arrogance?" I ask.

 

"Anyone who fancies himself a Prospero I suppose. But then it is my fate to suffer under the hands of stupid men." He juts his chin out, jaw tight. "They think me slow, but a slave and a fool are not the same thing now are they? Those are the four winds by the way—representative of the spirit, as in the Hebrew word for wind and spirit. The bible begins with God's Spirit moving over the deep or a wind depending." He tells me. "It is an invisible force that can be felt, but not seen. It is a symbol of change, of messengers, and the ephemeral. See? My head isn't empty."

 

"No," I say slowly. "No it's not. I didn't catch your name…"

 

In Greek mythology, the four winds were ruled by Aeolus. He gives the winds to Odysseus in a bag for his journey home, but one of his crew opens it to great disaster. Aeolus was also said to temper the fury of the winds by keeping them in dark caves. I think over the Latin inscription again.

 

_ His pow'r to hollow caverns is confin'd: _

_ There let him reign, the jailer of the wind, _

_ With hoarse commands his breathing subjects call, _

_ And boast and bluster in his empty hall. _

 

If the wind is the spirit, the unseen, the ephemeral—the supernatural world—then did the Van Helsing Society see themselves as some kind of modern day Aeolus, chasing the worst of the furies down a cave somewhere?

 

"I'm not important," he tells me. "Be careful and don’t be too trusting, Ajax." It is only after he has turned and left that I realize the bag with my laptop and a week's worth of notes has gone missing. I report the theft half-heartedly to the campus police. They say they'll call me if anything turns up.

 

###

 

I get a call from an unknown number while working at the bar that night. I hesitate and then step outside to take it.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Mr. Ioannis, I mean, Ajax?"

 

"Archie, is that you? What's up?"

 

"I, um, well there is something I want to tell you." His voice is anxious, trembling even. "About your sister, but I would prefer to speak in person?"

 

"Sure, great," I say quickly. "I'm at work right now, but I should be home around eleven, can you meet me at my house then?"

 

"Y-yes, eleven should be fine," he stammers, "eleven then." And with that, he hangs up.

 

It's slow and I get off a little early, smoking a cigarette as I walk home, my mind trying to calculate what Archibald could have to tell me. It involves Athena. Is it about her death? Is it something about the spell book or worse the portion of it that disappeared with my laptop? I have backups of my files, had taken the precaution of password protecting anything having to do with my supernatural research. But still…I'm pretty sure Mr. Fox suspects I have the book. And what about the symbolism on the back of the card? Would Archie be able to tell me more about that? As I approach my apartment, I sigh and roll my eyes.

 

"Archie, seriously? What are you doing hiding in the bushes? I can see the reflection of your goggles. Didn't I ask you not to lurk around my apartment like this? If my roommate sees you she'll freak." I crouch next to him so that we're eye to eye, or about where his eyes would be behind those stupid glasses. "Archie? Hey, Archibald?" I tentatively touch the man's shoulder and he slumps forward, limp. "Jesus!"  _ Ohmygodohmygod. _ This can't be happening. I pace up the sidewalk, limbs shaking, and then back again, muttering and swearing, before going back to the body to check for a pulse.

 

_ Fuck. _ Unless Archibald had always lacked a heartbeat, he’s dead, really, really dead. I look from side to side. Should I call the police? And say what exactly?  _ Hi, I have a dead ghost buster in my bushes. You should probably check and see if his soul is still intact? _

I fumble through Archibald's coat, praying no one sees me doing this. His wallet has more Van Helsing business cards and a California ID with a pretty unfortunate picture. I pocket the cards and then pull a slip of paper from the billfold. It reads in neat print:

_ If found dead please call the following Number: 768-0000-87126 _

 

###

 

"Hello?" says a cheerful female voice.

 

"Um, hi." I take a deep breath. "Archibald Rex is dead in the bushes outside my apartment."

 

"Alright, well thank you for calling, sir," she says with all the manners of sales clerk. "Can you tell me, is the body turning any unusual colors?"

 

"No."

 

"Are there any particular odors you might have noticed?"

 

"No."

 

"Is Mr. Rex covered in slime?" I can hear her typing as we speak.

 

"No."

 

"Great. How about any distinctive marks?"

 

"Look, not that I saw, but I didn't exactly give the guy a fucking autopsy."

 

"Well yes of course not," she says, sounding slightly startled. "Uh, we should be there in approximately five minutes." She hangs up without even asking the address.

 

I'm smoking on my steps when the black van pulls up and two members of the Van Helsing Society get out—a girl with red curly hair and freckles pulls off her goggles and approaches me, while the man with her examines Archibald.

"Mr. Ioannis? Hello, I'm Clementine Pox, we spoke on the phone a moment before."

 

"What's with the last names?" She smiles, but doesn't answer. "Oh sorry, is that classified?" I mumble as I snub out my cigarette.

 

###

 

Approximately fifteen minutes after they take poor Archibald away I'm dialing Katharina's number. I just don't care if I can trust her or not anymore. I have to talk to someone.

 

"Hello?" the smooth voice of a woman answers after only two rings.

 

"Hi, it's Jack," I say, pacing the length of my room in agitation.

 

"Ah, Jack. So nice to hear from you," Katharina purrs. "How are things progressing?"

 

"Badly," I tell her. "Something's just happened and I'm hoping you can tell me what you know about the Van Helsing Society."

 

"I see." there is a moment of silence. "I was afraid they might make contact with you."

 

"So you know who they are?"

 

"Yes, unfortunately I am very aware of their organization. If you don't mind, I'd appreciate knowing what information you've shared with them so far."

 

"Not a hell of a lot. Like I told you before, I don't know anything. They have a file on Athena though, and they won't let me see it."

 

"Ah yes, their files. Not very forthcoming with those at all. I've tried."

 

"You have?  _ Jesus. _ And then I had some stuff stolen this week, under some pretty sketch circumstances."

 

"The book?" she asks in alarm.

 

"No. Not exactly. Look, I think I need to get in touch with Eli. He just took off the morning he changed, and I would really like to talk to him." I hope I don't sound as pathetic as I feel.

 

"Elijah doesn't operate like that," Katharina says coolly. "He comes and goes as he pleases. I don't have any better way of getting in contact with him than you do. Besides, I warned you about him. I strongly suggest you distance yourself. As you have seen first hand now, the man is unpredictable and dangerous."

 

I bite my lip. "I know, I know. He's a werewolf. I get it. Just, if you see him can you let him know I want to talk.  _ Please? _ It's important."

 

###

 

Two nights after discovering a rather dead Archibald in my front hedge, I find myself being escorted down a hall abounding in lush Victorian details and ornate wallpaper by a pale, ageless looking man in a suit, his short-cropped brown hair slicked back.

 

I'm led into an office, which appears to double as a small library. Katharina stands immediately, walking out from behind a large oak desk with a smile on her painted red lips. She's wearing a tightly tailored black dress and heels that make a sharp clicking sound across the hardwood floor.

 

"Jack," she says warmly, clasping my hand with her cool fingers. "It's so nice to see you again."

She leans over and gives my cheek a soft kiss. "Can I interest you in a drink?"

 

"Sure." I nod. "You said you knew something about where Eli's been staying?"

 

"Mmm yes, we'll get to that. First, there's a bottle of pinot I've been dying to try, but haven't had suitable company to indulge," she says, gesturing for me to sit on a long black sofa.

 

"How old are you anyway, Jack?" Katharina asks casually as she uncorks the wine at a low bar, pouring our drinks with smooth, elegant movements.

 

"Twenty-six," I tell her.

 

"It's a good age," Katharina notes as she hands me my glass. It's unclear if she intends her comment for the wine, me, or both as she sits on the sofa close enough for her thigh to briefly touch mine. "Of course, I have great expectations of you blossoming, in certain ways, over the next few years."

 

"I don't know about that." I frown. "I would like to focus on surviving the next few months, first. And I'm not really looking to develop connections to the supernatural world beyond what's absolutely essential."

 

She sips her drink quietly for a moment before speaking."Darling, sometimes, we are pulled into our destiny whether we want it or not. I think you've come a bit too far, my dear, for things to ever go back to what they were before. So why fight it? Why not make it the start of something wonderful, instead? You know I had a similar conversation with Elijah once."

 

"I don't understand," I say slowly. There is something in her dark eyes now, hot and hungry.

 

"Poor Eli can be so disappointing can't he?"

 

"I…" I've barely tasted the wine and I can already feel its effects.

 

"Shh. Just listen. My people are very powerful here, in this city, and throughout the world. We know things, keep records of things. I've spent the last two nights researching our libraries to try to find information on your curse, for example.

 

"And?"

 

"I have some ideas. It's very complicated. I am beginning to fear that your unfortunate predicament could be a symptom of a much larger problem developing in San Francisco in recent years."

 

"What? Wait." I blink to try to clear my head. "I don't even know who you are."

 

Katharina smiles indulgently. "I want to trust you, but such things take time, my love. Have a little patience with my hesitation to be direct with you. Oh but I have some really wonderful news, indeed. I have spoken with my high council on your behalf and I would like to make you a very special offer."

 

"An offer? What kind of offer?"

 

"Come and study with me, Ajax. Be my novice, and I will teach you everything I know. We'll be as thick as thieves, no more secrets between us. I can peel back the mysteries of the ages before your young eyes. You are a scholar at heart, I can see that in you, and this is not an opportunity most will ever have." She smiles serenely. "It is the best way for me to offer you my protection."

  
  


I frown. "I still don't think I have a clear idea of what you are offering me."

 

"Ah, my sweet boy," she hums, running one cool finger down my neck, "so few of us ever do when the opportunity presents itself. I can give you everything you've ever imagined."

 

"Wait do you even know where Eli is or not?" I fail to recognize the fact that she's leaning in, until it's too late.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blueghostghost.tumblr.com is my writer blog. Come say hi! I've also got this one updated through chapter 12 on my patreon page for those who are impatient <3


	11. Steady

It's dark by the time I get home. I stayed late at the office finishing up some work for an upcoming court case and while Sarah tried to convince me to go to a BBQ at her boyfriend's house, I think I still feel tired and weak from my encounter with Katharina. Honestly, all I really want to do is take a shower and go to bed and the idea of being social makes my head hurt.

 

I shut the door with a sigh and then freeze, my heart thudding in my chest. There is something in the house, something supernatural. I can smell that familiar burning plastic scent wafting towards me from the direction of the kitchen.

 

_ Fuck. Not again. _

 

I weigh my options. This shit is getting awfully old. I could, I conclude, just turn around and leave. Hell, I could go eat a burger at a BBQ. But I'd have to come home eventually and what if it gets to Sarah before me? No. It's better to just suck it up and deal with this now.

 

In what is becoming an all too familiar gesture, I take out the mixture of salt and herbs from my pocket, pouring an ample amount into one hand. I can feel a weird sensation roll across my body, making the hairs on my arms stand on end as my own power mixes with the ingredients, feeding the ward the way one might a tiny flame with bits of paper.

 

I'm getting a good strong charge going now. Whatever in there, I'm certainly about to get its attention. I step into the kitchen doorway, shouting an incantation as I throw the salt across the floor. There is a surprised yelp and the sound of something big hitting the ground with a sudden meaty thud. I squint uncertainty.

 

"H-hello?" It's dark, the only light coming from the half open refrigerator door. Okay, so far so good. Now, I just need to pull it together and finish this.  _ Uh finish this how? _ Dispatch the intruder with a kitchen knife? Chase it across the apartment yelling and banging on a frying pan?  _ Jesus. I am so not cut out for this.  _

 

"Holy fucking shit Potter," a voice moans. "What the hell did you just do to me? It hurts like hell."

 

"Eli?" I step forward without thinking and flip on the light. Eli is on his back, sprawled out on the linoleum indignantly, dirty boots going in opposite directions. He has on black leather pants and a see-through mesh top, looking for all the world like some drugged out club kid.

 

"What the hell do you think you're doing in my house?" I demand. Good, I don't sound half as relieved as I feel.

 

"I'm a werewolf not a vampire, Jack. You don't have to invite me in."

 

"I said  _ what _ not  _ how _ ," I snap. "Just because you can break in doesn't mean you should.”

 

"So you're still mad at me I take it." I watch Eli roll stiffly to his knees and then stand, brushing himself off.

 

"Yeah, a little."

 

"Hey man." He shrugs, taking a beer from the fridge and shutting the door. "You're the one who wanted to talk to me. And you're being a tad bit of a princess about it don't you think?"

 

"I am n—wait you spoke with Katharina?" My blood runs cold, and I feel all the muscles in my stomach tighten.

 

"What do you care?" He shrugs again, brushing a strand of messy hair from his eyes. I try my damndest not to stare at his nipple rings under the sheer fabric of his shirt.

 

"The only person that I told I wanted to see you was Katharina. Eli, seriously, what did she say to you?"

 

Eli's eyes narrow and a flash of anger crosses his face. "Why? What happened with her?"

 

"Nothing.” I backtrack. “It's none of your damn business."

 

Eli stalks across the room, reaching out and snatching my arm, pulling me against his chest. "Hey!" I protest. "What the…"

 

"If you zap me again, Potter, I will make you regret it," he warns darkly as he sniffs my neck. "You reek of that bitch," he announces. "Goddamn it. I'll kill her."

 

"Nuh uh." I try to pull away, but Eli holds me in place with surprising ease. "You're imagining things. I haven't seen her for days."

 

"Yeah, but she tried to make you her own personal Renfield. You still have her claim in your system. I told Kat to back off. We talked about this. She knows you're mine."

 

_ Oh fuck no. _

 

"The hell I am you crazy bastard! Let go, Eli. I mean it. I can take care of myself." When he won't back off, I hiss a series of words that make Eli snarl and retreat towards the doorway of the kitchen. It is, in fact, the same spell that had brought the unpleasantness with Katharina to an abrupt halt a few nights earlier.

 

"Oh no. I warned you not to do that," Eli says flatly as I instinctually begin to back up.

 

"I've had enough of this. You people need to stay the hell away from me!" I warn. "I don't belong to anyone—least of all  _ you _ and I'm not some kind of new toy to fight over. I don't know what kind of history you two have, but you need to work it out without me…"

 

"Did you fuck her?" Eli demands.

 

"What? Are you  _ insane _ ? Did jumping through that window give you brain damage?" I feel the hard edge of the counter nudge my legs.

 

"I said." His voice is slow and menacing as he moves towards me. "When she bit you,  _ were you fucking _ ?"

 

"Stay back, Eli, I'm warning you." I reach into my pocket to retrieve another dose of the herb and salt concoction, but he's on me in an instant, his hands painful around my wrists as the grains of salt fall through my fingers and onto the floor in a useless scattering.

 

_ Well fuck. _

 

"Don't do that, Ajax," Eli says, barely a whisper. "You're getting better, I'll give you that, but not good enough to take me on just yet, sweetheart. You can piss me off real good, but you can't stop me."

 

I suddenly begin to feel real fear. Eli's angry and a whole lot stronger than me. I can feel the edge of the counter biting into my skin as his weight presses into me.

 

"It was enough to stop Katharina," I say, as my body heats up and my heart threatens to try to escape through my throat. The scent of him is almost as much of an assault on my senses as his grip around my wrists, familiar and heady. I’m already getting hard.

 

"What that little bugaboo chant?" Eli snorts. "Not a snowball's chance in hell. Kat's a hundred and sixty-four years old and stronger for it. She just doesn't want to go through the trouble of breaking in a willful servant. She might chip a nail or something. I, on the other hand, kind of like it when you fight me."

 

I squirm in his grasp, angry at myself for noticing the feel of his near bare torso. "Eli, you're scaring me."

 

"Am I? Well good. Now listen to me. Stay. Away. From. Kat." Then he's leaning down making a deep huffing sound as his breath tickles across my skin. He draws a wet tongue over the twin puncture marks on my neck, making me shiver. "I don't like to share," he says against my throat. "We're going to have to fix this." His voice has gone deep and smoky, like whisky.

 

"No, no, no." I shake my head. "Let me go."

 

"Mmm. But I'm not done with you yet," Eli says before clamping down hard on the sensitive spot above my collarbone and sucking a deep bruising mark that makes me moan pathetically. I don't know why I want this, how it could ever be anything but a train wreck and yet…

 

"You're the one that supposedly doesn't care, remember?" I snap, unable to hide the genuine hurt in that statement. "You left me.  _ Twice. _ Now you're pissed off about Katharina, like it's my fault or something? She attacked me! And anyway, if I decided I wanted to be her novice or whatever, you don't have a say in the matter, Eli."

 

"Shut the fuck up." To my surprise Eli lets go of my wrists and grabs me around the waist, hoisting me up onto the counter, pulling apart my knees roughly. Then he's yanking me forward so that our bodies are pressed together again.

 

I yelp and try to scramble back off the counter top, shoving at Eli's shoulders hard. "What the hell are you doing?"

 

But Eli just pushes me back far enough to catch fingers in my hair and pull me down into a kiss, rough and ravenous, his tongue running over my lips before forcefully plunging into my mouth. His hands are working the buttons of my slacks and all I can hear is my pulse thudding in my ears. I gasp, grind into his waiting palm.  _ I can't let this happen. This is crazy. I cannot possibly be thinking of fucking Eli right now—on my kitchen counter top of all the ridiculous places _ .

 

But God do I love the way this man smells, want that scent all over my body, down my throat, tangled in the fabric of my clothing. I screw my eyes shut, shudder as hands work up under my shirt. I can feel that deep eradicator of logical action, a potent brand of desire doping up my bloodstream, drawing me into that other headspace. My entire nervous system is singing under this rough treatment, at the feel of Eli's mouth moving down my neck. It isn't supposed to be like this. No one has ever made me act this way before. 

 

Eli abruptly pulls back and runs his thumb over my swollen mouth, almost tenderly. "What?" I ask after a moment, eyes fluttering open in confusion. "You're going to stop  _ now _ ?"

 

"You cool with this?" Eli's eyes are near black, only a minimal ring of blue around the pupils.

 

I frown. "What the hell kind of question is that?"

 

"Just…I don't know, we're pissed off at each other and...  _ fuck Jack _ . Just, you are so fucking  _ you _ sometimes. I don't know half the time if I want to strangle you or fuck you stupid."

 

"Yeah, keep going," I say.

 

He leans down, removing and dropping each one of my shoes with a light thud before hooking his thumbs into the waistband of my undone pants. He pulls hard, leaving me suddenly bear assed and sitting on the cold counter with my legs wrapped around Eli's waist.

 

"Jesus," I gasp, my arms reaching around his neck. Whatever this is, there's no denying I'm all in.

 

"Mmm." He captures my mouth in a deep kiss, slower this time, hands gripping my hair and pulling until it stings. I make a noise of protest and shake my head loose, pulling away to taste skin, hot and good, tonguing his piercings through the thin fabric. Eli is making rough, muffled noises as his fingers claw patterns on the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, forcing me to spread further for him. I'm vaguely aware of him undoing his black leather pants, pushing them down far enough on his hips to pull out his cock. My excitement sparks further as I watch his hand roughly pump, the head of his dick already glistening with pre-come.

 

"Gonna fuck you so hard, Jack," he snarls. "You're gonna feel it in your throat this time." He's pulling at my legs again, angling my hips the way he wants them. He reaches for the bottle of olive oil by the stove, pouring a generous amount into his palm and slicking his cock with it. I feel lightheaded—know I should protest doing it like this—but I cannot remember ever wanting to be fucked more than right now.

 

"God, fucking do it already. Come on," I urge. Eli nods, barely wetting me with one oil-slicked finger before he's lining up and pushing in, one burning inch after another. He moves forward too fast, making me suck air between clenched teeth as I will my body to relax."Fuck," I hiss. "fuck, fuck, fuck...don't stop." 

 

Eli pushes the rest of the way in, searing hot and deep and hard. When I'm stretched and full and panting, he pauses, undoing the buttons of my shirt to suck one nipple between his teeth and then the other. I rock into him, urging him to move, begging for it with each sound I make, my hands scrabbling for leverage on the countertop.

 

And then we're fucking; the loud slap of our bodies meeting as I wrap my legs tighter around Eli's waist and dig fingernails into his arms. Each hard thrust is just this side of pleasurable—heating up my insides with sensations that every second threaten to be too much. I know I will feel the results for days, but I only urge him to do it harder.

 

###

 

"You okay?" Eli is resting his forehead on my shoulder so that the words vibrate through me. "I got a little carried away I think."

 

"Nuh," I mumble, wincing at the slick mess that pools between my ass cheeks when Eli pulls out, carefully guiding my legs down with his hands. "I'm fine."

 

"Come on, baby, let's take a shower," Eli says, voice languid as he leans down to lightly kiss my mouth.

 

"Hmm?"

 

"Shower? I'll carry you if you want."

 

"No, I said I'm fine. Just let me clean off the counter first." I get down and fuss around the kitchen—disoriented and slow—until finally Eli decides we're done and steers me towards the bathroom, one arm around my waist and the other carrying my clothes.

 

###

 

"What's wrong?" Eli asks, looking up from toweling his hair. I blink, realizing I've been staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror for an undetermined amount of time.  _ We didn't use a condom. _ What the hell is wrong with me? Somehow this new act of uncharacteristic recklessness seems to only further confirm that I have gone astray from everything I ever believed about myself. Who is this idiot anyway?

 

"I can't believe we didn't use a condom," I say. "I'm a fucking adult or at least I used to be."

 

"Yeah, about that," Eli says thoughtfully. "I wouldn't make any major plans around the full moon, dude. How did you think I got it?"

 

"What!" I swing around and stare, nauseating panic swimming in my stomach.

 

Eli bursts into laughter. "Oh my God, you are too easy _. Holy shit _ . Werewolfism is not an STD, genius. Relax. Besides, I got tested after my last change just in case. I sincerely hope I did not get laid in scenic Fresno, but I wasn't entirely driving that car if you know what I mean."

 

"Your last…" I shut my mouth. Why are we even having this conversation? I never have this conversation. "It was still an incredibly stupid thing to do," I say. "And we didn't even talk about it. And I believe the correct term is lycanthropy."

 

Eli wraps the towel around his waist and crosses his arms over his chest. "It's my condition, I'll call it whatever I want. So you wanna talk about it?"

 

I look away, letting out a frustrated sigh. "No. Not really. And I got tested right before we started fucking in case by some miracle you even care." I spit back. It comes out sounding harsher than I meant it to.

 

"Okaayy," Eli drawls. "Well I'm just going to find my pants and be on my way then."

 

I roll my eyes. "Oh well that's a huge surprise."

 

"What is your fucking problem?" Eli throws his arms out in a frustrated gesture. "I get it. I'm a loser. Everything I do is loser related. Fine. Whatever. It's not like you haven't made it clear from day one you were gonna throw me out with the used condoms and your other dirty little leftovers."

 

"Oh  _ please _ ." I snort. "My heart fucking bleeds, Eli."

 

He starts to pick up his clothes and then pauses, pointing an accusing finger in my direction. "Don't get me wrong, I knew the score from the very beginning, sweetheart. You never even asked what I was."

 

"Huh?" I frown. "What the fuck are you even talking about?"

 

He lets out a huffing sound of annoyance. "You didn't even bother to ask exactly what kind of monster you'd let in your bed."

 

“You changed the subject whenever I tried.” I laugh. "Don't be so melodramatic.  _ God,  _ you sound like Katharina. And when was I supposed to bring that up anyway, genius? After you mugged me? When I nearly had my soul sucked out? What? While you were going all mega-macho every time we have sex?"

 

"I didn't see you complaining about that half an hour ago," Eli retorts.

 

"Ha!" I'm practically yelling now. "Just because your possessive, pushy, rough handling can get me off doesn't mean it makes me like you, trust you, or want to be your friend. And for your information dudes who exclusively top are such a deal breaker for me."

 

Eli's face flushes an exceptional red that runs down his neck and speckles across his chest. "I never…,you never…" he stammers, running a hand through his wet curls. "What the fuck, man? Now I'm supposed to read your mind? If you're so hot to be topping maybe you should stop sticking your ass in my face."

 

I open my mouth to say something—anything—but then it just stays like that, open and silent for a moment. I can't remember the last time someone made me so goddamn mad. Normally I'd have walked by now. "You are such an asshole," I hiss.

 

"Yeah well." He shrugs, shoulders slumping as he looks away. "You're no peach yourself sometimes. Has it ever once occurred to you, princess, that I'm just about as thrilled as you to be caught up in this shit? Do you think I  _ wanted _ this? Do you think I  _ like _ not telling my family where I am— _ like _ waking up every month praying I haven't done something unspeakable? You think you're the only one that's cursed?"

 

"I…" My arms hang loose at my sides as I stand there stupidly. Lycanthropy is spread through a bite from the infected. I realize, suddenly, I have absolutely no idea how long Eli has been a werewolf or who he might have been before it happened.

 

He gives me a sad, knowing smile that makes something flip-flop in the pit of my stomach. "I will say you're the first person in a really, really long time to make me truly hate what I am, though, so you've got that distinction going for you."

 

"What?" I ask in surprise. "Why?"

 

"Because I'm not stupid," he snarls. "I know you deserve a lot better than something like me. I knew the second I saw that tidy little room with its piles of law books and shit. I knew even then that I had no business being there. I never even fucking finished high school for crying out loud!" He draws a hand across his face and sighs. "I really don't know what's wrong with me…the way I act around you, that craziness with the window. It isn't usually this bad."

 

"Damn it, Eli." And then I am moving forward, quickly closing the gap between us, arms going out to pull bare skin against skin. He tastes like cigarettes and beer, his mouth stiff at first, then soft and warm, parting to let me in. I flick my tongue over his piercing, nip at him hungrily. "Don't go," I say against his lips. "I don't want you to go. Stay the night…"

 

"Ajax." Eli's eyes slide shut and his expression is pained even as his body relaxes a little against mine. His voice is so low it's barely audible. "I can't," he says. "This thing I have, this condition, it changes how I think, how I act.  _ It takes over. _ The more we do this, the more of you I have, the more I think of you as mine."

 

"Mmm." I can feel my cheeks flush hot, but I ignore it.  _ You are the one that came back and started shit, Eli—why are you suddenly so dead set on running away again? _

 

"Maybe if I go now…and never bother you again…" The tone in his voice kills me, the misery that seems to roll off him. "I should have stayed away, Jack."

 

"Look, we are clearly both hopeless," I say matter of factly. "Do you want to be exclusive?" I haven't considered such a thing in years, not since law school took over my life and even before that people who could get under my skin were few and far between. It just never seemed worth it.

 

Eli's eyes fly open. "Wait, you're fucking someone else?"

 

I shake my head and press fingers to my eyelids. "No! Of course not.  _ God _ , can you dial back the crazy for a moment here?"

 

"And yet," Eli says, scoffing, "he asks me to be his boyfriend. Which one of us is crazy now?"

 

This time the heat in my face goes all the way to the tips of my ears and I look at the floor. "Well then just say no," I mumble.  _ I am such an idiot sometimes _ . "No one is forcing you. I just thought…"

 

"Like hell I'm gonna say no!" His arms wrap tight around my waist as he kisses me until my lips burn. "I think that's the nicest damn offer I've ever had in my life." He pulls back and gives me a big toothy grin. "And if you really wanna learn how to top baby, I guess I can teach you. Don't worry, it's not as hard as it looks."

 

"Teach me...?" I scowl and swat at his arm hard. "You stupid ass. You'll be lucky if you can sit down in a month by the time I'm done with you!"

 

Eli's laugh is loud and deep as it bounces off the walls of the bathroom. It is a sound I find eases my nerves. He leans in and kisses my cheek, nuzzles the curve of my neck. "Promises, promises," Eli murmurs against my ear with a snicker before biting down on the lobe.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone that’s been patiently waiting for an update on this one, I’m gonna try to get a few more chapters ahead on my patreon page this weekend as well. Blueghostghost.tumblr.com is my writing blog. Come say hi!!


	12. overnight

"What do you mean someone stole your computer?" We're sitting across from each other on my bed, half naked and eating Chinese food straight out of the take-out boxes. I've been so stressed out and worried about everything, I didn't even realize I was hungry until we ordered delivery.

 

"Well," I say, gesturing with my chopsticks. "I was in the Berkeley Library looking for books on secret societies, like I do, and then this scruffy looking kid—he was like eighteen, nineteen maybe—he starts talking to me about the Van Helsings and being a slave to cruel men and how I should trust no one. You know, the usual stupid shit everyone supernatural says."

 

Eli gives a snort and rolls his eyes. "Drama queens, every fucking last one of them."

 

"Like you have room to talk." I laugh. Eli makes an offended face, and I mollify him with a kiss to a bare shoulder. He smells like my shampoo."Don't look at me like that. You know it's true. Anyway, the next thing I know my bag with all my stuff is gone. He said something else about some guy, Prospero. That's Shakespeare I think?"

 

Eli grimaces. "Shit.”

 

“I know. I just wish I knew what he was looking for. He had these really weird yellow eyes."

 

“Oh snap.” Eli’s looks like he knows something. “Black hair? Skinny little thing?”

 

I start. "Yeah. You know him?"

 

"Mmhm, unfortunately. That would be Tobias. I'd bet my lucky lighter on it. Stupid little fucker. I'll talk to Jericho about it."

 

"The wizard? Why?" I sound more annoyed than I'd like. "What does he have to do with this?"

 

Eli laughs and shakes his head. "I'd swear you sound jealous, which is hilarious.  _ Relax sweetheart _ . Jerry and I got nothing but a business relationship. He used to be close with Tobias though. I don't know what happened there, actually."

 

I frown. "What is he anyway? I couldn't tell."

 

"He's one of those spirit-demon things witches like to conjure up from the fairy lands or whatever."

 

"You mean a familiar?"

 

"Yeah one of those and a pretty powerful one at that. He can do some pretty crazy shit when he wants to. I saw him make it rain once. It was fucking eerie.”

 

“And he used to be Jericho’s familiar?”

 

“Nah, not exactly. He used to live with him, but I know Jerry didn't call him up in the first place."

 

"Who did?"

 

Eli takes a bite of eggroll and shrugs. "No idea, but I'd be happy to give that idiot a swift kick to the balls. Wherever there is a Toby, trouble is never far behind."

 

###

 

Eli is still asleep when I wake up the next morning, his curly hair spilling across the pillow. He looks younger somehow, thick lashes and full mouth deceptively sweet. He has freckles. I'd never noticed that before.

 

"Eli? Hey Eli?" I say softly, touching his arm.

 

"Yeah?" he mumbles groggily, running a hand across his face. "What time is it?"

 

"Early. I have to go to the office, but you should go back to sleep."

 

"M'kay," Eli says and then suddenly rolls on top of me, biting down on my shoulder hard enough to make me yelp.

 

"Hey!" I kick uselessly. "I have to go to work."

 

"You do?" Eli smirks above me, his voice tinged with mock surprise. He presses his naked erection against my thigh, hard and burning. "I guess you'd better not waste too much time struggling then, beautiful."

 

"Eli, I don't have time for this…" A hand travels between my legs, and I gasp, my head rolling back.  _ Jesus _ . "You are so not fucking me. I'm still sore from last night," I tell him sharply.

 

"Aren't we cranky this morning." He chuckles against my throat, tongue lapping at my skin,the bruising there. I smack him on the side, and he pins my wrists to the mattress. "Yeah? Well what abouts I teach you that other thing then, hmm?" He rocks against my leg, cock already leaking, leaving sticky trails.

 

"What thing?" I demand, even as my mouth goes dry with anticipation.

 

His eyes darken as he studies me. "You gonna fuck me real good or not, lawyer boy?"

 

I groan, an uncontrollable shiver running up my spine. "Okay, yeah, I've got twenty minutes."

Eli laughs and shifts above me. "I can work with that."

 

###

 

When I get back from the shower, Eli's sitting on the windowsill in a pair of my boxers, cigarette on his lips. Something about his expression makes me suddenly horribly nervous, the pit of my stomach lurching. "Uh Eli, you okay? I mean, I…you…um…"  _ Shit. _ I totally suck at this. By all indications things went pretty good—Eli flushed and spread, swearing and begging me to go harder—but our new arrangement is too tentative to trust just yet, and now I’m being awkward.

 

He looks up and gives me a funny smile. "Yeah sure," he says. "It was good. Better than good actually. Like us and fucking is anything but all kinds of awesome."

 

"Oh. Okay, great." I stand there like an idiot. "Uh. I gotta get going, but I’ll leave you a key and maybe we can have dinner tonight or whatever?"

 

"Dude, what the hell? Stop being weird."

 

"Ha. You're the one being weird," I counter.

 

"I’m not," I lie.

 

"You are. I can tell something's up."

 

"Fine. It's been a while since I've had a guy's come up my ass. I'm just savoring the sensation. Don't worry about it."

 

I blink. Not exactly the answer I was expecting. "Uh okay, cool then. Does that mean you don't want to do dinner?" I am such an awkward asshole, and now I'm going to be late to work. When did I decide it was such a good idea to have a boyfriend anyway?

 

"Jesus Christ, Ajax. Just because we're bad at this doesn't mean I don't wanna do it. Stop scrutinizing every little thing. Heh." He shakes his head. "Never mind. That's like telling a bird not to fly."

 

I make an irritated noise and cross the room, cup the back of his head and lean down for a rough kiss, pulling on Eli's hair as I do it. "I'll see you later," I say. "We'll talk or something."

 

He raises an eyebrow and gives me a slow smile that goes straight to my cock. _Holy shit._ I have it so bad for this guy. "If it's anything like this morning, I'd prefer the _or_ _something_. Be careful out there."

 

“I will.”

 

###

 

I take a long swig of my dark beer and watch as Eli digests what I've just told him. We're in this little hole in the wall Indian place by my work, the one that has killer Palak Paneer and vegetable samosas. Eli's wearing a plain white button up and a dark pair of jeans, his hair unstyled and curly.

 

He flips a lock out of his eyes, and I resist the urge to reach out and touch. "So you called the number and the Van Helsings came and took the body away?"

 

"Yeah, pretty much. Which is part of the reason I freaked when you were in my apartment. I mean, whatever killed poor Archie could have been looking for me, right? And fucking Mr. Fox won't tell me a goddamn thing. Not that that is a huge surprise."

 

Eli nods, chewing his bottom lip in thought. I flag down the waitress to bring us two more beers. "So what about the ID you took from his wallet? Did you go to the address?"

 

"I did. It was a dry cleaner. I went in and made some pretty moronic conversation with the girl behind the counter, but I didn't see anything interesting. I mean, the Van Helsing Society office is fronted by that old antique store, so it's possible that it's a fake out, but short of getting a job there, or breaking in, I don't know how I'd look into that."

 

Eli takes a gulp of his fresh beer and drums his fingers against the table. "Mmm. If we're going to bother to break in anywhere it should be the Van Helsing Society office itself, don't you think?"

 

"I thought of that," I sigh, "but they'll have pretty tight security don't you think? I know I saw an alarm system by the door the last time I was there."

 

"Well you'll just have to disarm it then."

 

"Me? I don't know anything about security systems."

 

"Yeah, but you're the one that can casts spells."

 

I shake my head. "Um, I don't know if you noticed, but my people have never been particularly modern in their materials, and I don't think I'm going to be able to shut off the alarm with salt and basil."

 

"We'll just have to get a cyber mage," Eli says flatly.

 

"A what?"

 

"A witch that  _ can _ work with technology. There are plenty of those around. It will probably be expensive, but I can try to call in a few favors and see where that gets us. If we can get a look at those files, it would be a start. Anyway, you said you found something about the Van Helsings at the library?"

 

"Oh yeah, but it's a little bit vague. Tobias actually pointed it out. There's an inscription in Latin on the back of the VHS business card. It's a line from the  _ Aeneid _ , something about being the 'jailor of the wind' along with an illustration of the four winds. It might be helpful to see if there are any other groups that used that kind of symbolism."

 

"Sounds like that is more your department than mine."

 

"I don't know, Eli," I tell him. "I can read about these things some, but you have experiences that I don't. I've never heard of a  _ cyber mage _ . I don't recognize conjured spirits or know anything about ghosts. Those are the kinds of connections I need help making. How did you learn all that stuff?"

 

Eli smiles, suddenly amused about something. "I would assume you've been reading up on werewolves?"

 

"Yeah, a little," I say in the understatement of the year.

 

"So you know then, I wasn't always like this," His expression goes solemn.

 

"Yeah." I nod. "How'd it happen if you don’t mind me asking?"

 

Eli takes a sip of his beer. "Punk show at the Gilman. It was pretty dark. I was pretty wasted. I thought it was a dog bite." He pauses and then adds, "It wasn't a dog bite."

 

"Jesus. How old were you?"

 

"Seventeen and dumb as shit. It sucked. Didn't finish high school. I ended up on the street for the first couple of years, sort of hustling or whatever. Not a happy time for me. I give you a lot of shit but my introduction into the supernatural world was not exactly graceful either."

 

"Oh God. I'm sorry. But what about your parents? Did they find out?"

 

"Oh hell no." Eli shakes his head. "I'm just their fuck-up drug addicted gay son as far as they're concerned—and that conclusion was reached well before the werewolf stuff. They live in Marin. Totally loaded. You think supernatural San Francisco is weird you should see the la-la-land I was raised in. Fucking insane."

 

"Oh," I say stupidly, trying to digest this new set of information. "So do you ever, you know, see them?"

 

"Yeah, a few times a year. I go up there sometimes for Passover or whatever, but my brothers all have kids and shit. It's weird. And my mom wants to send me to this fancy rehab center, or have me move back in with them." He snorts. "Right. Like that's a good idea. I think mom believes she failed me somehow, so she's always trying to fucking fix it—it's just for her that's like buying me a Beamer and an apartment, which, you know, isn't going to solve my lunar complications for shit."

 

"Holy hell Eli, this is kind of turning my world upside down right now." I mean, I'd known in the back of my mind that Eli hadn't always been a werewolf, and that of course he had to have parents, but the particulars had seemed so vague and abstract.

 

"What? You thought I was raised by wolves or something?" He laughs. "No baby, I just act like it."

 

"I don't know, the way you talk…I just didn't picture it being like that."

 

"Mmm." Eli looks away, suddenly shy. "They're worried and hella disappointed, but at least my family doesn't think of me as a monster," he says quietly.

 

"You're really not," I tell him. I snatch up his hand and lay a quick kiss across scar-speckled knuckles. "An asshole, completely, but never a monster."

 

Eli laughs, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "Speaking of my charming social skills, I went and talked to Jericho today."

 

"And?"

 

"He says he hasn't seen Toby for a couple of months, but that the kid definitely has a new master and from way he was talking, Jericho is definitely pissed off about that."

 

"Huh." I frown. "What do you think that means?"

 

"It means that one of the parties sniffing around for that family book of yours has a damn strong spirit working for them—which also means they're powerful and probably really, really dangerous."

 

"Figures," I say. "What a fucking mess."

 

"Yup. Well, if we're looking for a cyber mage and that's probably a good idea at this point, we should go to Lucky's tonight and ask around."

 

"Okay. What's Lucky's?"

 

"A bar." Eli grins. "I think you'll like it. Used to be cooler, before the vampires started slumming around it, but you know. Still not a bad place."

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few more chapters of this one left! I posted chapters 13 and 14 of this on the patron page today. Blueghostghost.tumblr.com is my writing blog, come say hi!


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